APPLETONS'  POPULAR  LIBRARY 

OF  THE  BEST  AUTHORS. 
GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 


nf  flppltfans1 

NOW  READY. 


ESSAYS  FROM  THE  LONDON  TIMES : 

A    COLLECTION   OF   HISTORICAL    AND    PERSONAL    SKETCHES. 

THE  YELLOWPLUSH  PAPERS. 

BY   W.    M.    THACKERAY. 

THE  MAIDEN  AND  MARRIED  LIFE  OF 
MARY  POWELL. 

A  JOURNEY  THROUGH  TARTARY,  THIBET,  AND 
CHINA. 

BY     M  .     H  TJ  0  . 

THE  PARIS  SKETCH  BOOK. 

BY  W.  M.  THACKERAY. 

GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

BY    HORACE    SMITH. 

LITTLE  PEDLINGTON  AND  THE 
PEDLINGTONIANS. 

BY  JOHN   POOLE,   AUTHOR   OP   "  PAUL   PRY,"   BTC. 


GAIETIES  AND  GRAVITIES. 


BY 


HORACE  SMITH, 


ONE  OF  THE  AUTHOBS  OF   "  KEJECTED  ADDBESSES." 


NEW- YORK:' 
D.  APPLETON  &  COMPANY,  200  BROADWAY. 

M.DCCO.L1I. 


s 


\ 


PUBLISHERS'  ADVERTISEMENT. 


THE  collection  of  "  Gaieties  and  Gravities"  ap- 
peared from  the  press  of  Colburn  in  1825 — a 
gathering  from  the  Author's  contributions  to  pe- 
riodical literature,  chiefly  in  the  New  Monthly 
Magazine.  From  these  miscellanies  have  been 
arranged,  for  the  present  volume,  a  series  of  pa- 
pers, which  to  the  exclusion  of  what  was  merely 
temporary  or  of  inferior  interest,  will  present,  it 
is  believed,  what  is  most  characteristic  and  per- 
manent in  the  genius  of  their  Author, — a  genius 
which  in  its  playful  sallies  and  profounder  sen- 
timents, may  be  classed  in  the  school  of  Charles 
Lamb  and  Thomas  Hood. 

M178897 


PUBLISHERS7    ADVERTISEMENT. 


This  book  bears  the  name  of  Horace  Smith ; 
a  similar  volume  of  the  series  will  contain  the 
MISCELLANIES  OF  JAMES  SMITH,  his  brother, 
and  the  other  Author  of  "  Eejected  Addresses." 

NEW- YORK,  APEIL,  1852. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGB. 

ADDRESS   TO   THE   MUMMY   AT   BELZONl's   EXHIBITION  .               9 

WtNTER                 .                  .                  .                  .                  .                  .  11 

ON   PUNS    AND    PUNSTERS      .                  .                  .                  .  .23 

MY  TEA-KETTLE                  .                  .                  .                  .                  .  31 

THE    WIDOW   OF   THE   GREAT   ARMY                    .                 .  .39 

ON   NOSES            ......  41 

WALKS   IN   THE   GARDEN                  .                  .                  .52,  62,  71,  80 

CORONATION   EXTRAORDINARY      ....  87 

ADDRESS   TO   THE   ORANGE   TREE   AT   VERSAILLES          .  .             93 

ON   LIPS   AND   KISSING                      .                  .                  .                  .  96 

TO   A   LOG   OF   WOOD   UPON   THE   FIRE               .                  .  .106 

MISS    HEBE   HOGGINS'S   ACCOUNT   OF   A   LITERARY    SOCIETY     LN 

HOUNDSDITCH          ....  109,   116,   123 

ANTE   AND   POST   NUPTIAL   JOURNAL  .  .  .132 

THE   LIBRARY  .  .  .  .  .  145 

UGLY   WOMEN  .  .  .  .  .  -  156 

THE   WORLD  .  .  .  '    .  .  165 

THE   FIRST   OF   MARCH  .....          174 

THE   ELOQUENCE   OF   EYES  .  .  .  .  175 


CONTENTS. 


ADDRESS  TO  THE  ALABASTER  SARCOPHAGUS  LATELY  DEPOSITED 

IN    THE    BRITISH    MUSEUM  .  .  .  .183 

MEMOIRS    OF    A    HAUNCH   OF   MUTTON         .  .  .  186 

BEGGARS    EXTRAORDINARY  !    PROPOSALS    FOR   THEIR   SUPPRES- 
SION    .......          195 

STANZAS   TO   PUNCHINELLO             ....  204 

LETTERS   TO   THE   ROYAL   LITERARY   SOCIETY        .                  .  206,   215 

A   LAMENTATION   UPON   THE    DECLINE   OF   BARBERS               .  223 

SATIRISTS    OF    WOMEN. CHANCES   OF   FEMALE   HAPPINESS  .          232 

THE   STEAMBOAT   FROM   LONDON   TO    CALAIS             .                  .  241 

MEMNON'S  HEAD     ......       257 

WOMEN  VINDICATED      .....  263 

PORTRAIT  OF  A  SEPTUAGENARY  BY  HIMSELF  .  .273 


GAIETIES    AND    GEAVITIES. 


ADDRESS  TO  THE  MUMMY  AT  BELZONI'S 
EXHIBITION. 

AND  thou  hast  walk'd  about  (how  strange  a  story  !•) 
In  Thebes's  streets  three  thousand  years  ago, 

When  the  Memnonium  was  in  all  its  glory, 
And  Time  had  not  begun  to  overthrow 

Those  temples,  palaces,  and  piles  stupendous, 

Of  which  the  very  ruins  are  tremendous. 

Speak !  for  thou  long  enough  hast  acted  Dummy, 
Thou  hast  a  tongue — come — let  us  hear  its  tune ; 

Thou'rt  standing  on  thy  legs,  above-ground,  Mummy ! 
Revisiting  the  glimpses  of  the  moon, 

Not  like  thin  ghosts  or  disembodied  creatures, 

But  with  thy  bones  and  flesh,  and  limbs  and  features. 

Tell  us — for  doubtless  thou  canst  recollect, 

To  whom  should  we  assign  the  Sphinx's  fame? 

"Was  Cheops  or  Cephrenes  architect 

Of  either  Pyramid  that  bears  his  name  ? 

Is  Pompey's  Pillar  really  a  misnomer  ? 

Had  Thebes  a  hundred  gates,  as  sung  by  Homer  ? 

Perhaps  thou  wert  a  Mason,  and  forbidden 
By  oath  to  tell  the  mysteries  of  thy  trade,-— 


10  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

Then  say  what  secret  melody  was  hidden 

In  Memnon's  statue  which  at  sunrise  play'd  ? 
Perhaps  thou  wert  a  Priest — if  so,  ray  struggles 
Are  vain,  for  priestcraft  never  owns  its  juggles. 

Perchance  that  very  hand,  now  pinion'd  flat, 
Has  hob-a-nobb'd  with  Pharaoh,  glass  to  glass ; 

Or  dropped  a  halfpenny  in  Homer's  hat, 
Or  doff' d  thine  own  to  let  Queen  Dido  pass ; 

Or  held,  by  Solomon's  own  invitation, 

A  torch  at  the  great  Temple's  dedication. 

I  need  not  ask  thee  if  that  hand,  when  arm'd, 
Has  any  Roman  soldier  maul'd  and  knuckled, 

For  thou  wert  dead,  and  buried,  and  embalrn'd, 
Ere  Romulus  and  Remus  had  been  suckled : — 

Antiquity  appears  to  have  begun 

Long  after  thy  primeval  race  was  run. 

Thou  couldst  develope,  if  that  wither'd  tongne 
Might  tell  us  what  those  sightless  orbs  have  seen, 

How  the  world  look'd  when  it  was  fresh  and  young, 
And  the  great  deluge  still  had  left  it  green — 

Or  was  it  then  so  old  that  History's  pages 

Contain' d  no  record  of  its  early  ages  ? 

Still  silent?  incommunicative  elfl 

Art  sworn  to  secrecy  ?  then  keep  thy  vows ; 

But  pry  thee  tell  us  something  of  thyself— 
Reveal  the  secrets  of  thy  prison  house : 

Since  in  the  world  of  spirits  thou  hast  elumber'd, 

What  hast  thou  seen — what  strange  adventures  numbered  ? 

Since  first  thy  form  was  in  this  box  extended, 

"We  have,  above-ground,  seen  some  strange  mutations ; 

The  Roman  empire  has  begun  and  ended, 

New  worlds  have  risen — we  have  lost  old  nations, 

And  countless  kings  have  into  dust  bom  bumbled, 
While  not  a  tra^na-nt  of  tliv  ilt>h  lius  crumbled. 


WINTER.  1 1 


Didst  thou  not  hear  the  pother  o'er  thy  head 
When  the  great  Persian  conqueror,  Cambyses, 

March'd  armies  o'er  thy  tomb  with  thundering  tread, 
O'erthrew  Osiris,  Orus,  Apis,  Isis, 

And  shook  the  Pyramids  with  fear  and  wonder, 

When  the  gigantic  Memnon  fell  asunder  ? 

If  the  tomb's  secrets  may  not  be  confess'd, 
The  nature  of  thy  private  life  unfold  ; — 

A  heart  has  throbb'd  beneath  that  leathern  breast, 
And  tears  adown  that  dusty  cheek  have  roll'd : — 

Have  children  climb'd  those  knees,  and  kiss'd  that  face? 

What  was  thy  name,  and  station,  age,  and  race? 

Statue  of  flesh — Immortal  of  the  dead ! 

Imperishable  type  of  evanescence ! 
Posthumous  man,  who  quitt'st  thy  narrow  bed, 

And  standest  undecay'd  within  our  presence, 
Thou  wilt  hear  nothing  till  the  Judgment  morning, 
When  the  great  Trump  shall  thrill  thee  with  its  warning 

Why  should  this  worthless  tegument  endure, 

If  its  undying  guest  be  lost  for  ever  ? 
0  let  us  keep  the  soul  embalm'd  and  pure 

In  living  virtue,  that  when  both  must  sever, 
Although  corruption  may  our  frame  consume, 
Th'  immortal  spirit  in  the  skies  may  bloom ! 


WINTER. 

THE  mill-wheel's  frozen  in  the  stream, 
The  church  is  deck'd  with  holly, 

Mistletoe  hangs  from  the  kitchen-beam, 
To  fright  away  melancholy  : 

Icicles  clink  in  the  milkmaid'*  pail, 
Younkers  skate  on  the  pool  below, 


12  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

Blackbirds  perch  on  the  garden  rail, 
And  hark,  how  the  cold  winds  blow ! 

There  goes  the  squire  to  shoot  at  snipe, 

Here  runs  Dick  to  fetcli  a  log ; 
You'd  swear  his  breath  was  the  smoke  of  a  pipe, 

In  the  frosty  morning  fog. 
Hodge  is  breaking  the  ice  for  the  kine, 

Old  and  young  cough  as  they  go, 
The  round  red  sun  forgets  to  shine, 

And  hark,  how  the  cold  winds  blow ! 


In  short,  winter  is  come  at  last — a  mighty  evil  to  the 
shivering  hypochondriacs,  who  are  glad  to  catch  at 
any  excuse  to  be  miserable ;  but  a  visitation  which,  by 
those  who  are  in  no  actual  danger  of  dining  with  Duke. 
Humphrey,  or  of  being  driven,  from  lack  of  raiment, 
to  join  in  the  exclamation  pf  poor  Tom,  may  very  ap- 
propriately be  hailed  in  the  language  of  Satan,  "  Evil, 
be  thou  my  good  !"  The  Spaniards  have  a  proverb, 
that  God  sends  the  cold  according  to  the  clothes ;  and 
though  the  callousness  and  hardihood  acquired  by  the 
ragged  be  the  effect  of  exposure,  and  not  an  exemption 
from  the  general  susceptibility,  the  adage  is  not  the 
less  true,  and  illustrates  that  beneficent  provision  of 
Nature,  which,  operating  in  various  ways,  compensates 
the  poor  for  their  apparent  privations,  converts  the 
abused  luxuries  of  the  rich  into  severe  correctives,  and 
thus  pivtty  nearly  equalizes,  through  the  various  classes 
of  mortals,  the  individual  portion  of  suffering  and  enjoy- 
ment. In  the  distribution  of  the  seasons,  care  seems  to 
have  beeu  taken  tliat  mankind  should  have  the  full 
benefit  of  this  system  of  equivalents.  To  an  admirer  of 


WINTER.  13 


Nature,  it  is  certainly  melancholy  to  be  no  longer  able 
to  see  the  lusty  green  boughs  wrestling  with  the  wind, 
or  dancing  in  the  air  to  the  sound  of  their  own  music ; 
to  lose  the  song  of  the  lark,  the  nightingale,  the  black- 
bird, and  the  thrush ;  the  sight  of  the  waving  corn,  the 
green  and  flowery  fields,  the  rich  landscape,  the  blue 
and  sunny  skies.  It  appears  a  woeful  contrast,  when 
the  glorious  sun  and  the  azure  face  of  heaven  are  per- 
petually hidden  from  us  by  a  thick  veil  of  fog ;  when 
the  poached  and  swampy  fields  are  silent  and  desolate, 
and  seem,  with  a  scowl,  to  warn  us  off  their  premises ; 
when  the  leafless  trees  stand  like  gaunt  skeletons,  while 
their  offspring  leaves  are  lying  at  their  feet,  buried  in  a 
winding-sheet  of  snow.  There  is  a  painful  sense  of  im- 
position, too,  in  feeling  that  you  are  paying  taxes  for 
windows  which  afford  you  no  light ;  that  for  the  bright 
and  balmy  breathings  of  Heaven,  you  are  presented 
with  a  thick  yellow  atmosphere,  which  irritates  your 
eyes,  without  assisting  them  to  see.  Well,  I  admit  that 
we  must  betake  ourselves,  in-doors,  to  our  shaded  lamps 
and  our  snug  firesides.  There  is  no  great  hardship  in 
that :  but  our  minds  are  driven  in-doors  also,  they  are 
compelled  to  look  inwards,  to  draw  from  their  internal 
resources ;  and  I  do  contend  that  this  is  the  unlocking 
of  a  more  gloiious  mental  world,  abundantly  atoning 
for  all  our  external  annoyances,  were  they  even  ten 
times  more  offensive.  That  man  must  have  a  poor  and 
frozen  fancy  who  does  not  possess  a  sun  and  moon 
obedient  to  his  own  will,  which  he  can  order  to  arise 
with  much  less  difficulty  than  he  can  ring  up  his  servants 
on  these  dark  mornings;  and  as  to  woods,  lakes,  and 
mountains,  he  who  cannot  conjure  them  up  to  his 


14  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

mind's  eye  with  all  their  garniture  arid  glory,  as  glibly 
as  he  can  pronounce  the  words,  may  depend  upon  it 
that  he  is — no  conjurer.  It  is  well  known,  that  in  our 
dreams  objects  are  presented  to  us  with  more  vivid 
brilliancy  and  effect  than  they  ever  assume  to  our  ordi- 
nary perceptions,  and  the  imaginary  landscapes  that 
glitter  before  us  in  our  waking  dreams  are  unquestion- 
ably more  enchanting  than  even  the  most  picturesque 
reality.  They  are  poetical  exaggerations  of  beauty, 
the  beau  ideal  of  Nature.  Then  is  it  that  a  vivacious 
and  creative  faculty  springs  up  within  us,  whose  omni- 
potent and  magic  wand,  like  the  sword  of  harlequin, 
can  convert  a  Lapland  hut  into  the  Athenian  Parthenon, 
and  transform  the  desolate  snow-clad  hills  of  Siberia, 
with  their  boors  and  bears,  into  the  warm  and  sunny 
vale  of  the  Thessalian  Tempe,  where,  through  the 
glimpses  of  the  pines,  we  see  a  procession  of  shepherds 
and  shepherdesses  marching  to  offer  sacrifice  in  the 
temple  of  Pan,  while  the  air  brings  to  us,  at  intervals, 
the  faint  sound  of  the  hymn  they  are  chanting.  There 
was  nothing  ridiculous  in  the  saying  of  the  clown,  who 
complained  that  he  could  not  see  London  for  the  houses. 
Mine  is  a  similar  predicament  in  the  month  of  June ;  I 
cannot  see  such  landscapes  as  I  have  been  describing, 
on  account  of  the  trees  and  fields  that  surround  me. 
The  real  shuts  out  the  ideal.  The  Vale  of  Health  upon 
Hampstead  Heath  deprives  me,  for  months  together,  of 
the  Vale  of  Tempe  ;  and  the  sand-boys  and  girls,  with 
their  donkeys,  drive  away  Pegasus  upon  a  full  gallop, 
and  eject  the  nymphs  and  fauns  from  the  sanctuary  of 
my  mind.  Tin-  mrpm-onl  oy^  puts  out  the  mental  one: 
I  am  obliged  U»  tak^  ]>ast<>ral  ol.j.-rts  as  rlit-y  }>iv>«-nt 


WINTER.  15 


themselves,  and  to  believe  the  hand-writing  on  the  finger- 
posts which  invariably  and  solemnly  assert  that  I  am 
within  four  miles  of  London,  and  not  in  "Arcady's 
delicious  dales,"  on  the  "vine-covered  hills  and  gay 
valleys  of  France,"  or  in  Italy's  "  love-breathing  woods, 
and  lute-resounding  waves."  But  when  the  fields  around 
me  are  covered  with  snow,  and  fogs  and  darkness  are 
upon  the  land,  I  exclaim  with  Milton,  "  so  much  the 
rather  thou,  shine  inward,  light  divine  ;"  and,  betaking 
myself  to  my  fire-side,  lo  !  the  curtain  is  drawn  up,  and 
all  the  magnificent  scenery  of  classic  realms  and  favoured 
skies  bursts  upon  my  vision,  with  an  overpowering 
splendour.  Talk  not  to  me  of  the  inspiration  and  rap- 
ture diffused  around  Parnassus  and  Helicon  ;  of  the 
poetic  intoxication  derived  from  quaffing  the  "  dews  of 
Castaly," — "the  true,  the  blushful  Hippocrene," — or 
"  Aganippe's  rill."  I  boldly  aver,  that  Apollo  himself 
walking  amid  the  groves  of  the  muse-haunted  mountain, 
never  shook  such  radiant  inspiration  from  his  locks  as 
often  gushes  from  the  bars  of  a  register-stove,  when  the 
Pierian  "Wall's  End"  or  "Russel's  Main"  has  had  its 
effulgence  stimulated  by  a  judiciously  applied  poker ; 
and  as  to  potable  excitements  of  genius,  I  will  set  the 
single  port  of  Canton  against  the  whole  of  European 
and  Asiatic  Greece,  and  am  prepared  to  prove,  that 
more  genuine  Parnassian  stimulus  has  emanated  from  a 
single  chest  of  eight-shilling  black  tea,  than  from  all  the 
rills  and  founts  of  Arcady,  Thessaly,  and  Boeotia.  I  am 
even  seriously  inclined  to  doubt  whether  the  singing  of 
the  nightingale  has  ever  awakened  so  much  enthusiasm, 
or  dictated  so  many  sonnets,  as  the  singing  of  the  tea- 
kettle. 


16  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

December  is  the  true  pastoral  month.  For  my  part, 
I  consider  my  Christmas  summer  as  having  just  set  in. 
It  was  but  last  night  that  I  enjoyed  my  first  Italian 
sunrise.  I  was  sitting,  or  rather  standing,  with  my 
shoulders  supported  against  a  chesnut-tree,  about  half 
way  down  the  slope  of  the  celebrated  Vallombrosa, 
watching  the  ascent  of  the  great  luminary  of  day,  whose 
coming  was  announced  by  that  greenish  hue  in  the 
horizon,  which  so  often  attends  his  uprising  in  cloud  loss 
climates.  In  the  opposite  quarter  of  the  heavens,  the 
pale  moon  was  still  visible ;  while  the  morning  star, 
twinkling  and  twinkling,  appeared  struggling  for  a  few 
moments'  longer  existence,  that  it  might  just  get  one 
peep  at  the  sun.  Behind  me  the  tufted  tops  of  the 
chesnut  woods  began  to  be  faintly  illumined  with  the 
ray ;  while  the  spot  where  I  stood,  and  the  rest  of  the 
vale,  were  still  enveloped  in  a  grey  shade.  Immediately 
opposite  to  me,  two  young  shepherds  had  plucked  up  a 
wattle  from  the  fold,  and  as  their  sheep  came  bleating 
forth,  they  stood  on  each  side  of  the  opening,  singing, 
in  a  sort  of  measured  chant,  alternate  stanzas  from  the 
Orlando  Furioso.  They  had  chosen  that  part  of  the  8th 
book,  where  Angelica  is  earned,  by  magic  art,  into  a 
desolate  island ;  and  in  the  pride  of  my  Italian  lore,  and 
anxiety  to  "  warble  immortal  verse  and  Tuscan  air,"  I 
was  on  the  very  point  of  taking  up  the  story,  and  quot- 
ing the  uncourteous  treatment  she  encountered  from  tho 

licentious  old  Hermit,   when a  gust  of  cold  wind 

blowing  in  under  the  door  of  my  room  puffed  out  my 
sun,  and  a  drop  of  half-frozen  water  falling  from  the  ceil- 
ing upon  my  head,  owing  to  the  derangement  of  a  pipe  in 
the  chamber  above,  simultaneously  extinguished  my 


WINTER. 


moon !  Ever  while  you  live,  let  your  parlour  be  an 
oblong  square,  with  the  door  in  one  corner,  and  the  fire- 
place in  the  centre  of  the  farther  end,  by  which  means 
you  will  have  two  snug  fire-side  places,  secure  from  these 
reverie-breaking  draughts  of  air ;  and  if,  before  tuning 
up  your  wind-pipe,  you  were  just  to  take  a  look  at  the 
water-pipe,  you  need  not,  like  me,  be  subject  to  the 
demolition  of  the  loveliest  sunrise  that  was  ever  invisible. 
Such  are  the  casualties  to  which  the  most  prudent 
visionaries  are  exposed  :  but  are  the  plodding  fellows  of 
fact  and  reality  a  whit  more  secure  of  their  enjoyments  ? 
I  appeal  to  every  man  who  has  really  visited  the  classic 
spot  from  which  I  was  thus  ejected  without  any  legal 
notice,  whether  a  cloud,  a  storm,  the  heat  of  the  sun,  or 
some  other  interruption,  has  not  frequently  driven  him 
from  the  contemplation  of  a  beautiful  landscape  which 
he  has  in  vain  endeavoured  to  resume  under  equally 
favourable  circumstances.  His  position,  somehow  or 
other,  presents  the  same  objects  in  a  less  picturesque 
combination  ;  the  day  is  not  so  propitious :  either  there 
is  less  amenity  and  richness  in  the  light,  or  the  tints 
have  decidedly  altered  for  the  worse ;  in  short,  his  first 
view,  as  compared  with  the  second,  is  Hyperion  to  a 
Satyr.  Now  mark  the  advantages  of  the  fire-side  land- 
scape over  that  of  the  open  fields.  No  sooner  had  I 
retrimmed  my  lamp,  rendered  doubly  necessary  by  the 
extinction  of  my  sun  and  moon ;  composed  myself 
afresh  in  my  arm-chair,  and  fixed  my  eyes  steadfastly 
upon  the  fire-shovel,  which  happened  to  stand  op- 
posite,— than  the  whole  scene  of  Vallombrosa,  the  god 
of  day  climbing  over  the  mountains,  the  chesnut-woods, 
and  the  spouting  shepherds,  gradually  developed  them- 


18  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

selves  anew  with  all  the  effulgence  and  exact  indivi- 
duality of  the  first  impression.  The  sun  had  stood  still 
for  me  without  a  miracle,  and  continued  immovable 
until  I  had  time  to  transfer  the  whole  gorgeous  prospect 
upon  the  canvas  of  my  brain.  There  it  remains  ;  it  is 
mine  in  perpetual  possession,  and  no  new  Napoleon  can 
take  it  down  and  carry  it  off  to  the  Louvre.  It  is  deeply 
and  ineffaceably  engraved  upon  my  sensorium  ;  litho- 
graphed upon  the  tablet  of  my  memory,  there  to  remain 
while  Reason  holds  her  seat.  To  me  it  is  a  portion  of 
eternity  enclosed  within  a  frame ;  a  landscape  withdrawn 
from  the  grand  gallery  of  Heaven,  and  hung  up  for  ever 
in  one  of  the  chambers  of  my  brain.  Neither  age  nor 
mildew,  nor  heat  nor  cold,  can  crack  its  varnish,  or  dim 
the  lustre  of  its  tints. 

Fear  no  more  the  heat  of  the  sun, 

Nor  the  furious  winter's  rages ; 
Thou  thy  worldly  task  hast  done, 

Home  art  gone,  and  ta'en  thy  wages. 

The  "  exegi  monumentum"  and  other  valedictory  vain- 
glories of  the  classic  poets,  were  very  safe  auguries,  for 
they  were  either  altogether  unknown,  or  known  to  be 
true: 

Both  bound  together,  live  or  die, 
The  writing  and  the  prophecy. 

feut  I  run  still  less  risk  in  predicting  the  durability  of 
my  imaginary  painting,  for  I  can  neither  injure  nor 
destroy  it,  even  if  I  had  the  inclination.  In  all  ethical, 
moral  and  didactic  writings,  how  unceasingly  are  we 
reminded  of  the  frailness  and  evanescence  of  human 


WINTER.  19 


possessions — a  truth  which  is  inculcated  upon  us  as  we 
walk  the  streets,  by  those  silent  monitors,  sun-dials  and 
tombstones.  Who  ever  read  Shirley's  beautiful  poem 
beginning 

"The  glories  of  our  earthly  state 
Are  shadows,  not  substantial  things," 

without  a  deep  and  solemn  conviction  of  the  utter  vanity 
and  fugaciousness  of  all  mortal  grandeur ;  without  feel- 
ing that  it  was  perishable  as  the  reflection  of  the  world 
upon  a  bubble,  insubstantial  as  the  shadow  of  smoke 
upon  the  water  ?  Such  is  the  slippery  nature  of  realities ; 
but  whoever  urged  this  objection  against  the  imperish- 
able visions  of  the  brain  ?  You  may  as  well  talk  of 
cutting  a  ghost's  throat,  as  of  cutting  down  any  of  the 
trees  which  I  now  see  nodding  in  my  ideal  landscape, 
and  which  will  continue  to  wave  their  green  heads, 
spite  of  all  the  mortgages  and  woodmen  in  existence. 
Show  me  the  terra-firma  in  Yorkshire  that  can  with 
impunity  make  such  a  boast  as  this.  Mine  is  an  estate 
upon  which  I  can  reside  all  the  year  round,  and  laugh 
at  the  Radicals  and  Spenceans,  while  the  bond  fide 
landholders  are  only  redeeming  their  acres  from  the 
grasp  of  those  hungry  philanthropists,  that  they  may 
be  devoured  piecemeal  by  the  more  insatiable  maw  of 
the  poor's-rates.  Fortressess  and  bulwarks  are  not  half 
so  secure  as  my  little  mental  domain,  with  no  other 
protection  than  its  ring-fence  of  evergreens.  Is  there  a 
castle  upon  earth  that  has  not,  at  some  period,  been 
taken ;  and  did  you  ever  know  a  castle  in  the  air  that 
was  ?  As  the  traveller,  when  he  beheld  the  Colisaeum  in 
ruins,  remarked  that  there  was  nothing  stable  and  im- 


20  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

mutable  at  Rome  except  the  river,  which  had  been  con- 
tinually running  away  ;  so  I  maintain  that  no  human 
possession  is  positive  and  steadfast,  except  that  which  is 
in  its  nature  aerial  and  unembodied.  With  these  im- 
pressions, I  should  think  rather  the  better  of  my  theory, 
if  it  were  proved  to  be  inconsistent  with  facts ;  and 
should  assert  more  strenuously  than  ever,  that  the  moral 
is  more  solid  than  the  physical,  and  that  abstractions 
are  the  only  true  realities. 

But  methinks  I  hear  some  captious  reader  ex- 
claim— "What  is  the  value,  after  all,  of  your  ideal 
landscape  ?  it  is  a  picture  of  nothing ;  and  the  more  it 
is  like,  the  less  you  must  like  it."  Pardon  me,  cour- 
teous reader.  Some  sapient  critic,  in  noticing  Hunt's 
story  of  Rimini,  (which  with  all  the  faults  of  its  last 
canto  is  a  beautiful  and  interesting  poem,)  remarks 
tauntingly  that  we  may  guess  at  the  fidelity  of  the 
Italian  descriptions  of  scenery,  when  the  author  had 
never  wandered  beyond  the  confines  of  Highgate  and 
Hampstead  Heath.  So  much  the  better.  He  never 
undertook  to  give  us  a  fac-simile  of  Nature's  Italian 
hand-writing,  or  a  portrait  of  any  particular  spot ;  but 
to  present  the  general  features  of  the  country,  embellished 
with  such  graces  as  his  fancy  enabled  him  to  bestow  : 
and  unless  it  be  argued  that  every  local  prospect  is  in- 
capable of  improvement,  it  must  be  admitted  that  com- 
bination and  invention  are  preferable  to  mere  accuracy 
of  copying.  As  well  might  it  be  objected  to  the  statu- 
aries who  chiseled  the  Apollo  Belvedere  and  Venus  de 
Medici  out  of  blocks  of  marble,  that  they  had  never 
seen  a  god  or  a  goddess.  We  may  reasonably  doubt 
whether  the  author  of  the  Laocoon  group  ever  saw  a 


WINTER.  21 


man  and  his  three  sons  enwreathed  by  serpents ;  and 
we  may  be  sure  that  if  he  had,  and  attempted  to  give  a 
faithful  and  close  delineation  of  the  spectacle,  he  would 
not  have  succeeded  half  so  well  as  he  has.  Such  matter- 
of-fact  critics  might  quarrel  with  Dante  for  never  having 
been  in  Hell,  and  with  Milton  for  not  having  visited 
Paradise  before  he  presumed  to  describe  it.  Away  with 
these  plodders  with  scissars  and  shears,  who  would  clip 
the  wings  of  imagination  !  If  we  may  snatch  a  grace 
beyond  the  reach  of  art,  so  may  we  snatch  one  beyond 
the  reach  of  nature ;  and  if  I  could  be  transported  in 
proprid  persona  to  the  scene  of  my  Italian  landscape,  I 
have  little  doubt  that  I  should  gaze  around  me  with 
disappointment,  and  finally  prefer  the  imaginary  to  the 
real  scene. 

From  the  operation  of  this  benevolent  system  of 
equivalents  springs  the  variety  of  national  character, 
which  depends  in  a  great  degree  upon  climate.  Lux- 
uriating in  the  deliciousness  of  warm  suns,  cloudless 
skies,  beautiful  scenery,  and  a  soil  spontaneously  fertile, 
the  Italian  finds  happiness  enough  in  his  external  im- 
pressions, and,  considering  the  dolce  far  niente  as  the 
summum  bonum  of  existence,  sutlers  his  spirit  to  evaporate 
through  his  senses,  and  dreams  away  life  in  a  kind  of 
animal  listlessness.  An  Englishman  is  obliged  to  draw 
upon  his  mind  for  the  gratifications  denied  to  his  body, 
and  apply  to  his  fire-side  for  the  warmth  withheld  from 
him  by  the  sun ;  hence  the  two  distinguishing  traits  of 
his  character — mental  activity  and  domestic  virtue.  It 
is  astonishing  that  nobody  has  thought  of  constructing 
an  Intellectual  Reaumur,  graduated  according  to  the 
degrees  of  cold,  and  shewing  at  one  glance  how  much 


22  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

literary  talent  may  be  calculated  upon  in  the  different 
capitals  of  Europe.  Up  to  a  certain  point  acuteness 
would  increase  with  the  rigour  of  the  climate ;  and  in 
all  of  the  knotty  and  abstruse  problems  of  metaphysics, 
Edinburgh  would  be  found  at  a  higher  pitch  than 
London.  There  appears  to  be  something  in  a  Scotch- 
man's brain  equivalent  to  the  gastric  juice  in  his  sto- 
mach, which  enables  him  to  digest,  decompound,  and 
resolve  into  their  primitive  elements,  the  most  stubborn 
and  intractable  propositions.  I  should  be  disposed  to 
assign  to  Edinburgh  the  post  of  honour  upon  this  scale, 
and  to  consider  this  distinction  as  conferring  upon  it  a 
much  better  claim  to  the  title  of  the  Northern  Athens, 
than  the  fancied  resemblance  between  the  Calton  Hill 
and  the  Acropolis.  Farther  north,  both  mind  and  body 
must  be  expected  to  degenerate ;  and  I  should  no  more 
dream  of  ideas  flowing  from  the  benumbed  scull  of  a 
Laplander  or  a  Kamschatkan,  than  of  water  gushing 
from  a  frozen  plug.  If  my  conjecture  as  to  the  influence 
of  climate  in  forming  the  Italian  character  be  correct,  it 
may  perhaps  be  asked,  since  the  temperature  has  been 
in  all  ages  equally  luxurious,  how  I  account  for  their 
ancestors  having  built  Rome  and  conquered  the  world. 
-He  is  no  genuine  theorist  who  cannot  annihilate  both 
time  and  space  to  reconcile  contradictions.  But  I  am 
not  driven  to  this  necessity,  as  I  have  only  to  adopt  the 
theory  lately  promulgated  by  Mr.  Galiffe,  who,  because 
the  grammars  of  the  Russian  and  Roman  languages  are 
both  without  any  article,  and  the  foundations  of  some 
of  the  most  ancient  cities  in  each  country  are  exactly 
similar  in  structure,  boldly  pronounces  that  Rome  was 
founded  by  a  colony  of  Muscovites.  Braced  with  all  the 


ON    PUNS    AND    PUNSTERS.  23 

vigour  of  a  northern  temperament,  they  had  time  to  ex- 
tend their  empire  to  the  extremities  of  the  earth,  and 
rear  the  magnificent  edifices  of  Rome,  before  they  began 
to  experience  the  degenerating  effects  of  the  climate. 
In  fact  they  were  only  an  earlier  eruption  of  Goths  and 
Vandals,  and  did  not  properly  become  Italians  until 
about  the  period  of  the  decline  and  fall.  So  far,  there- 
fore, from  militating  against  my  theory,  they  afford  a 
beautiful  confirmation  of  its  accuracy. 


ON  PUNS  AND  PUNSTERS. 

"  The  gravest  beast  is  an  ass ;  the  gravest  bird  is  an  owl ;  the  gravest 
fish  is  an  oyster;  and  the  gravest  man  a  fool." 

JOE  MILLER. 

GRAVITY,  says  Lord  Bolingbroke,  is  the  very  essence 
of  imposture.  A  quack  or  a  pretender  is  generally  a 
very  grave  and  reverend  signior ;  and  though  I  would 
not  venture  to  assert  that  the  converse  of  this  proposition 
is  invariably  true,  I  must  confess,  that  as  I  am  apt  to 
doubt  the  virtue  of  an  obtrusive  Puritan  and  rigourist, 
so  am  I  marvellously  prone  to  suspect  the  wisdom  of 
your  serious  and  solemn  Precisian.  While  the  shallow 
pedant  endeavours  to  impose  upon  the  world  by  a 
serious  and  pompous  deportment,  minds  of  a  superior 
order  will  be  often  found  abandoning  themselves  to 
playfulness  and  puerility.  Plato,  after  discoursing 
philosophy  with  his  disciples  upon  the  promontory  of 
Sunium,  frequently  indulged  the  gaiety  of  his  heart  by 
relaxing  into  a  vein  of  the  most  trivial  jocoseness ;  but 
once  seeing  a  grave  formalist  approach  in  the  midst  of 


24  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

their  trifling,  he  exclaimed,  u  Silence,  my  friends  !  let 
us  be  wise  now  ;  here  is  a  fool  coming."  This  man's 
race  is  not  extinct.  Reader !  hast  thou  not  sometimes 
encountered  a  starched-looking  quiz,  who  seemed  to  have 
steeped  his  countenance  in  vinegar  to  preserve  it  from 
the  infection  of  laughter  ? — a  personage  of  whom  it 
might  be  pronounced,  as  Butler  said  of  the  Duke  of 
Buckingham,  that  he  endures  pleasures  with  less  patience 
than  other  men  do  their  pains? — a  staid,  important, 
dogged,  square-rigged,  mathematical-minded  sort  of  an 
animal  ?  Question  him,  and  I  will  lay  my  head  to  yours 
(for  I  like  to  take  the  odds),  that  whatever  tolerance  he 
may  be  brought  to  admit  for  other  deviations  from  the 
right  line  of  gravity,  he  will  profess  a  truculent  and  im- 
placable hatred  of  that  most  kind-hearted,  sociable,  and 
urbane  witticism,  termed — A  PUN. 

Oh  the  Anti-risible  rogue  !  Oh  the  jesticide — the 
Hilarifuge  !  the  extinguisher  of  "  quips  and  cranks  and 
wanton  wiles ;" — the  queller  of  quirks,  quiddets,  quibbles, 
equivocation,  and  quizzing !  the  gagger  of  gigglers ! 
the  Herod  of  witlings,  and  Procrustes  of  full-grown 
Punsters  !  Look  at  his  atrabilarious  complexion  ;  it  is 
the  same  that  Caesar  feared  in  Brutus  and  Cassius : 
such  a  fellow  is  indeed  fit  for  treasons,  stratagems,  and 
plots ;  he  has  no  music  in  his  soul,  for  he  will  not  let 
us  even  play  upon  words.  Will  nothing  but  pure  wit 
serve  thy  turn,  most  sapient  Sir  ?  Well,  then  set  us 
the  example — 


"Lay  OD,  Macduff, 


And  damn'd  be  he  that  first  cries,  Hold!  enough!" 
How, — dumb-founded  ?     Not  quite ; — methinks  I  hear 


ON    PUNS    AND    PUNSTERS.  25 

him  quoting*  Dr.  Johnson's  stale  hyperbole — "  Sir,  the 
man  that  would  commit  a  pun  would  pick  a  pocket ;" 
to  which  I  would  oppose  an  equally  valid  dictum  of  an 
illustrious  quibbler — "  Sir,  no  man  ever  condemned  a 
good  pun  who  was  able  to  make  one."  I  know  not  a 
more  aggrieved  and  unjustly  proscribed  character  in 
the  present  day  than  the  poor  pains-taking  punster. 
He  is  the  Paria  of  the  dining-table ;  it  is  the  fashion  to 
run  him  down :  and  as  every  dull  ass  thinks  that  he 
may  have  a  kick  at  the  prostrate  witling,  may  I  be 
condemned  to  pass  a  whole  week  without  punning,  (a 
fearful  adjuration  !)  if  I  do  not  show  that  the  greatest 
sages,  poets,  and  philosophers  of  all  ages,  have  been 
enrolled  upon  this  proscribed  list ! 

Even  in  Holy  Writ,  whatever  might  have  been  the 
intention  of  the  speaker,  there  is  authority  for  a  play 
upon  words  equivalent  to  a  pun.  When  Simon  Bar- 
Jona,  for  his  superior  faith,  received  the  name  of  Peter, 
(which  in  Greek  signifies  a  stone  or  rock,)  the  divine 
bestower  of  that  appellation  exclaimed,  "I  say  unto 
thee,  that  thou  art  Peter,  and  upon  this  rock  will  I 
build  my  church,"  (fee.  Homer  has  made  the  wily 
Ulysses  save  his  life  by  means  of  a  pun.  In  the  ninth 
book  of  the  Odyssey,  that  hero  informs  the  Cyclops 
that  his  name  is  Noman  ;  and  when  the  monster,  after 
having  had  his  eye  put  out  in  his  sleep,  awakes  in 
agony,  he  thus  roars  to  his  companions  for  assist- 
ance : — 

"  Friends  !  No-man  kills  me.     No-man  in  the  hour 
Of  sleep  oppresses  me  \vith  fraudful  power. — 
If  No-man  hurt  thee,  but  the  hand  divine 
Inflicts  disease,  it  fits  thee  to  resign. 
2 


26  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

To  Jove,  or  to  thy  father  Neptune  pray, 

The  brethren  cried,  and  instant  strode  away" — 

a  joke  upon  which  Euripides  dilates  with  huge  delight 
in  the  drama  of  the  Cyclops.*  It  will  be  observed  that 
Pope  has  preserved  the  equivoque  in  his  translation, 
which  attests  his  respect  for  this  most  ancient  jeu- de- 
mots  ;  while  Ulysses  is  described  as  hurrying  away  in 
high  glee,  "  pleased  with  the  effect  of  conduct  and  of 
art,"  which  is  an  evidence  that  Homer  felicitated  him- 
self upon  the  happiness  of  the  thought.  This  passage 
exhibits  a  very  rude  and  primitive  state  of  the  art ;  for 
had  any  modern  Cyclopes  been  invoked  to  aid  their 
comrade  under  similar  circumstances,  they  would  have 
seen  through  so  flimsy  a  trick  only  with  one  eye. 

Later  Greek  writers  were  by  no  means  slow  in  fol- 
lowing so  notable  an  example.  Plutarch  has  preserved 
several  of  these  Pteroenta,  or  flying  words,  particularly 
King  Philip's  celebrated  pun  to  the  physician  who 
attended  him  when  his  collar-bone  was  broken ;  and 
Diogenes  the  Cynic  made  so  happy  an  equivoque  upon 
a  damsel's  eye,  which  the  profligate  Didymus  undertook 
to  cure,  that  Scaliger  said  he  would  rather  have  been 
author  of  it  than  King  of  Navarre. — From  the  comic 
authors  a  whole  galaxy  of  similar  jokes  might  be  collect- 
ed ;  but  I  reserve  the  specification  for  a  new  edition  of 
Hierocles,  the  Joe  Miller  of  Alexandria,  which  I  am 
preparing  for  the  press  in  ten  volumes  quarto. 

*  Gibber,  in  translating  the  Italian  Opera  of  Polifemo, 
make  Ulysses  answer — "  /  take  no  name  ;"  whereby  all  that 
followed  became  unintelligible,  and  the  Greek  pun  was  most 
ingeniously  ppoilt. 


ON    PUNS    AND    PUNSTERS.  27 

The  Romans,  who  imitated  the  Greeks  in  every 
thing,  were  not  likely  to  forget  their  puns,  verbaque  apta 
joco.  Cicero  informs  us  that  Caesar  was  a  celebrated 
performer  in  this  way.  Horace  in  his  seventh  Satire, 
giving  an  account  of  the  quarrel  between  Persius  and 
Rupilius  Rex,  before  Brutus  the  Praetor,  makes  the 
former  exclaim,  "  Per  magnos,  Brute,  Deos  te  oro,  qui 
reges  consu6ris  tollere,  cur  non  hunc  Regem  jugulas  ?" 
thus  playing  upon  the  names  of  both  parties.  Martial 
was  an  accomplished  punster ;  and  Ovid  not  only 
quibbled  upon  words,  but  metamorphosed  them  into  a 
thousand  phantasies  and  vagaries. 

The  same  valuable  privilege  formed  the  staple  com- 
modity of  the  ancient  Oracles ;  for  if  the  presiding  dei- 
ties had  not  been  shrewd  punsters,  or  able  to  inspire  the 
Pythoness  with  ready  equivoques,  the  whole  establish- 
ment must  speedily  have  been  declared  bankrupt. 
Sometimes,  indeed,  they  only  dabbled  in  accentuation, 
and  accomplished  their  prophecies  by  the  transposition 
of  a  stop,  as  in  the  well-known  answer  to  a  soldier 
inquiring  his  fate  in  the  war  for  which  he  was  about  to 
embark.  "  Ibis,  redibis.  Nunquam  in  bello  peribis." 
The  warrior  set  off  in  high  spirits  upon  the  faith  of  this 
prediction,  and  fell  in  the  first  engagement,  when  his 
widow  had  the  satisfaction  of  being  informed  that  he 
should  have  put  the  full  stop  after  the  word  "nunquam" 
which  would  probably  have  put  a  full  stop  to  his  enter- 
prise and  saved  his  life.  More  commonly,  however,  they 
betook  themselves  to  a  positive  pun,  the  double  con- 
struction of  which  enabled  them  to  be  always  light : 
sometimes  playing  upon  a  single  word,  and  sometimes 
upon  the  whole  clause  of  a  sentence.  When  Croesus, 


28  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

about  to  make  war  upon  Cyrus,  consulted  the  Delphian 
priestess,  he  was  told  that  in  crossing  the  river  Halys 
he  would  overturn  a  great  empire — which  could  hardly 
fail  to  be  true ;  for,  if  he  succeeded,  he  would  subvert 
the  Assyrian  kingdom ;  if  he  failed,  his  own  would  be 
overwhelmed.  Pyrrhus  received  a  similar  response  as 
to  the  fate  of  his  expedition  against  the  Romans. 
"  Credo  equidem  ^Eacidas  Romanos  vincere  posse ;" 
which  might  import  either  that  the  JEacides,  from  whom 
Pyrrhus  was  descended,  would  conquer  the  Romans,  or 
precisely  the  reverse :  such  are  the  advantages  of  a 
double  accusative. 

Christianity,  by  superseding  these  Oracles,  did  not, 
most  fortunately,  extinguish  quibbling,  for  which  we 
have  the  authority  of  one  of  the  earliest  Popes.  Some 
Pagan  English  youths  of  extraordinary  beauty  being 
presented  to  him,  he  exclaimed,  "  Non  Angli,  sed  Angeli 
forent,  si  essent  Christiani." 

Heraldic  bearings  are  supposed  to  have  been  invented 
to  distinguish  the  different  nations,  armies,  and  clans,  that 
were  congregated  together  in  the  Crusades ;  and  the 
mottoes  assumed  upon  this  occasion,  if  we  may  judge  by 
those  of  England,  bore  almost  universally  some  punning 
allusion  to  the  name  or  device  of  the  chief.  The  simi- 
lar epigraphs  still  retained  by  the  Veraon,  Fortescue, 
and  Cavendish  families,  as  well  as  by  numerous  others, 
may"  be  viewed  as  so  many  venerable  testimonies  to  the 
antiquity  of  punning  in  this  our  happy  island. 

There  is  not  one  of  our  sterling  old  English  writers 
from  whom  we  might  not  glean  some  specimen  of  this 
noble  art ;  which  seems  to  have  attained  its  golden  age 
in  that  Augustan  era  of  our  literature — the  reign  of 


ON    PUNS    AND    PUNSTERS.  29 

our  renowned  Queen  Elizabeth,  when  clergymen  punned 
in  the  pulpit,  judges  upon  the  bench,  and  criminals  in 
their  last  dying  speeches.  Then  was  it  that  the  deer- 
stealing  attorney's  clerk  fled  from  Stratford,  and  intro- 
ducing whole  scenes  of  punning  into  his  immortal  plays, 
eliciting  quibbles  not  less  affluently  from  the  mouths  of 
fools  and  porters,  than  from  the  dread  lips  of  the  weird 
sisters,  "  who  palter  with  us  in  a  double  sense,"  estab- 
lished upon  an  imperishable  basis  the  glory  of  his 
favourite  science  of  Paronomasia ; — a  glory  irradiating 
and  reflected  by  the  whole  galaxy  of  dramatic  talent 
with  which  he  was  surrounded. 

Succeeding  writers,  though  they  have  never  equalled 
this  splendour  of  quibble,  have  not  failed  to  deposit 
occasional  offerings  upon  the  altar  of  Janus,  the  god  of 
puns.  Dryden  pretended  to  be  angry,  when  being  in  a 
coffee-house  with  his  back  towards  Rowe,  one  of  his 
friends  said  to  him,  "  You  are  like  a  waterman ;  you 
look  one  way,  and  Rowe  another ;"  but,  though  unwil- 
ling to  be  the  object  of  a  pun,  he  had  no  compunction 
in  being  the  author  of  many,  for  the  support  of  which 
assertion  the  reader  may  consult  his  dramatic  works. 
Addison's  opinion  of  this  laugh-provoking  practice  may 
be  collected  from  the  440th  Number  of  the  Spectator, 
wherein  he  describes  a  society,  who  had  established 
among  themselves  an  infirmary  for  the  cure  of  all  defects 
of  temper  and  infractions  of  good  manners.  "  After 
dinner  a  very  honest  fellow  chancing  to  let  a  pun  fall 
from  him,  his  neighbour  cried  out,  '  To  the  infirmary !' 
at  the  same  time  pretending  to  be  sick  at  it,  as  having 
the  same  natural  antipathy  to  a  pun  which  some  have 
to  a  cat.  This  produced  a  long  debate.  Upon  the 


30  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

whole,  the  punster  was  acquitted  and  his  neighbour 
sent  off." — Pope's  authority  we  have  already  cited. 
Gay  was  probably  the  author  of  the  play  upon  his  own 
name,  when  he  observed  that  the  great  success  of  his 
Beggar's  Opera,  whilst  Rich  was  proprietor  of  the  thea- 
tre, had  made  Gay  rich,  and  Rich  gay.  But  what  shall 
we  say  of  Swift,  the  punster's  Vademecum,  the  Hierarch, 
the  Pontifex,  the  Magnus  Apollo  of  the  tribe ;  the  Alpha 
and  Omega,  the  first  and  last  of  the  professors  of  equiv- 
ocation ;  whose  mind  was  an  ever-springing  fountain  of 
quiddets,  and  the  thread  of  whose  life  was  an  unbroken 
string  of  puns  from  his  first  to  his  second  childhood  ? 
Impossible  as  it  is  to  do  justice  to  the  memory  of  so 
great  a  man,  I  feel  the  eulogomania  swelling  within 
me ;  and  that  I  may  effectually  check  its  yearnings,  I 
leap  athwart  a  measureless  hiatus,  and  revert  to  that 
lugubrious,  somnolent,  single-sensed,  and  no-witted  Anti- 
punster,  whom  I  apostrophised  in  the  outset. 

And  now,  thou  wrord-measurer,  thou  line-and-rule 
mechanic,  thou  reasoning  but  not  ruminating  animal, 
now  that  1  have  produced  these  authorities,  limited  to  a 
narrow  list  from  the  want  of  room,  not  of  materials,  wilt 
thou  have  the  ridiculous  arrogance  to  affect  contempt 
for  a  pun  ?  That  genuine  wit  which  thou  pretendest  to 
worship,  (as  the  Athenians  built  an  altar  to  the  unknown 
I  >oity),  has  been  defined  to  be  an  assimilation  of  distant 
ideas;  and  what  is  a  pun  but  an  eliciter  of  remote 
meanings  ?  which,  though  they  may  not  always  amount 
to  a  definite  idea,  are  at  all  events  the  materials  of  one, 
and  therefore  ingredients  in  the  composition  of  real  wit. 
These  Protean  combinations  are  the  stimulants  of  fancy, 
the  titillators  of  the  imagination,  the  awakeners  of  the 


MY    TEA-KETTLE.  31 


risible  faculties ;  and  to  condemn  them  because  the  same 
happy  results  may  be  produced  by  a  more  rare  and 
difficult  process,  is  either  an  exemplification  of  the  fox 
and  the  sour  grapes,  or  the  pride  of  mental  luxury, 
which  would  quarrel  with  all  gratifications  that  are  cheap 
and  accessible.  The  sterling  commodity  is  scarce — let 
us  prize  it  the  more  when  we  encounter  it ;  but  in  the 
mean  time  let  us  not  reject  a  good  substitute  when  it  is 
presented.  Gooseberry  wine  is  no  very  lofty  succeda- 
neum  for  sparkling  Champagne,  but  it  is  better  than  tast- 
ing. Some  may  not  like  the  flavour  of  the  beverage, 
but  none  would  think  of  abusing  the  caterer  who  puts 
upon  the  table  the  best  liquor  that  his  cellar  affords. 
These  sullen  stupidities  are  reserved  for  an  Anti-pun- 
ster. 


MY  TEA-KETTLE. 

"  0  madness  to  think  use  of  strongest  wines, 
And  strongest  drinks,  our  chief  support  of  health." 

MILTON. 

A  CERTAIN  popular  writer  who  is  wasting  his  time  and 
misemploying  his  formidable  pen  in  vituperating  that 
most  innocent  and  ingratiating  of  all  beverages,  Tea, 
should  be  condemned,  for  at  least  six  months,  to  drink 
from  a  slop-basin  the  washing  of  a  washerwoman's 
Bohea ;  or  be  blown  up  with  some  of  Twining's  best 
Gunpowder :  or  be  doomed  to  exemplify  one  of  Pope's 
victims  of  spleen,  and 

"  A  living  tea-pot  stand,  one  arm  held  out, 
One  bent ;  the  handle  this,  and  that  the  spout" 


32  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

His  cottage  economy  may  be  very  accurate  in  its 
calculations  :  I  dispute  not  his  agrestical  or  bucolic 
lore ;  but  why  should  this  twitter  of  Twankay  pre- 
sume to  denounce  it  as  insalubrious,  or  brand  its  fru- 
gal infusions  with  riot  and  unthrift  ?  Is  Sir  John  Bar- 
leycorn, after  the  brewer's  chymist  has  "  drugged  our  pos- 
sets;" or  "Blue  Ruin,"  with  all  its  juniper  seductions  ; 
or  Roman  Purl,  still  more  indigestible  than  Cleopatra's, — 
to  leave  no  alternative  of  tipple  to  the  thirsty  cottager  ? 
Is  he  to  have  no  scruples  for  drams,  and  yet  to  be 
squeamish  and  fastidious  about  a  watery  decoction,  to 
play  the  anchorite  about  a  cup  of  tea  ?  Sobriety  and  tem- 
perance are  not  such  besetting  virtues  among  our  lower 
orders,  that  we  can  afford  to  narrow  their  influence  by 
circumscribing  the  use  of  this  antidote  against  drunken- 
ness ;  and  the  champion  of  the  brewers  should  recollect 
the  dictum  of  Raynal — that  tea  has  contributed  more 
to  sobriety  than  the  severest  laws,  the  most  eloquent 
harangues  of  Christian  orators,  or  the  best  treatises  of 
morality.  But  we  have  within  our  realm  five  hundred 
as  good  as  he,  who  have  done  full  justice  to  the  virtues 
of  this  calumniated  plant.  Dr.  Johnson,  as  Mrs.  Thrale 
knew  to  her  cost,  was  an  almost  insatiable  tea-bibber, 
and  praised  that  salutiferous  potation  with  as  much 
cordiality  as  he  drank  it. 

Bontikoe,  a  Dutch  physician,  considers  it  a  universal 
panacea  ;  and  after  bestowing  the  most  extravagant  en- 
comiums upon  it,  declares  that  two  hundred  cups  may 
be  drank  in  a  day  with  great  benefit.  The  learned 
Grusterzippius,  a  German  commentator,  is  of  opinion 
that  the  "  Te  veniente  die,  te  decidente,"  alludes  to  the 
morning  and  evening  use  of  this  beverage  among  the 


MY    TEA-KETTLE.  33 


Romans,  while  the  "  Te  teneam  moriens  deficiente 
maim  "  seems  to  intimate  its  being  occasionally  used  as 
a  species  of  extreme  unction  among  the  ancients.  The 
late  Emperor  of  China,  Kien  Long,  of  pious  memory, 
composed  a  laudatory  ode  upon  this  fragrant  product 
of  his  country,  and  a  nephew  of  the  writer's,  a  Guinea- 
pig  on  board  one  of  the  East  India  ships,  having  occa- 
sion to  go  to  Nankin  to  buy  a  pair  of  trowsers  for  him- 
self, and  a  piece  of  India  rubber  for  his  brother,  found 
means  of  procuring  a  copy,  of  which  I  submit  the  first 
verse  to  the  reader's  inspection  : — 

"  Kou-onen  peing-tcho  onen-chang, 

King-tang  shoo  kin  Cong-foo-tse ; 

Chong-choo  lee-kee  kou-chon  whang, 

To-hi  tche-kiang  She-whang-te." 

The  artful  allusion  to  Confucius  in  the  second  line, 
and  the  happy  introduction  of  the  subject  beverage  in 
the  fourth,  will  not  escape  the  most  careless  critic. 

Candour  requires  that  we  should  not  disguise,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  opinion  of  Swift,  who  thus  writes  in  his 
Journal  to  Stella : — "  I  was  telling  Sir  George  Beau- 
mont of  my  head  ; — he  said  he  had  been  ill  of  the 
same  disorder,  and  by  all  means  forbid  me  Bohea  Tea, 
which  he  said  always  gave  it  him,  and  that  Dr  Rad- 
cliffe  said  it  was  very  bad.  Now  I  had  observed  the 
same  thing,  and  have  left  it  off  this  month,  having 
found  myself  ill  after  it  several  times  ;  and  I  mention 
it  that  Stella  may  consider  it  for  her  poor  own  little 
head." — This  libellous  insinuation  does  not  amount  to 
much.  Swift  was  a  splenetic  and  deficient  being,  un- 
impassioned  by  the  beauties  of  Stella  and  Vanessa,  and 
2* 


34  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

therefore  naturally  unimpressed  by  the  beauties  of 
Bloom, — incapable  of  Bohea — a  Narses  or  a  Menophilus 
among  the  lovers  of  Tea.  What !  is  China,  with  its 
330  millions  of  inhabitants,  a  nation  of  invalids?  Ra- 
ther may  we  apprehend  from  the  universal  potion  of 
Tea  an  acceleration  of  the  Malthusian  dilemma,  when 
the  population  shall  press  upon  the  limits  of  food,  than 
any  debilitation  of  our  national  strength.  For  my  own 
part,  I  am  so  persuaded  of  its  benign  influences  upon 
vitality,  hospitality,  conviviality,  comicality,  and  all  the 
other  'alities,  that  if  there  be  any  adventurous  spirits 
abroad,  any  fellows  of  pith  and  enterprise  stirring, 
any  champions  of  the  aqueous  infusion,  instead  of  that 
of  the  grape,  we  will  hoist  the  standard  of  revolt  against 
the  vine-crowned  Bacchus,  dispossess  him  of  his  Pards 
to  yoke  a  couple  of  milch  cows  to  .his  car,  twitch  from 
his  hand  the  Thyrsus  "  dropping  odours,  dropping  wine," 
to  en  wreath  it  with  tea -leaves,  substitute  for  the  fir-cone 
at  its  tip  a  tiny  sugar-loaf,  convert  Pan  into  a  slop-ba- 
sin, and  Silqnus  and  the  Satyrs  into  cups  and  saucers. 

Fecundi  calices  quern  non  fecere  Disertum  f 

Apply  this  to  tea-cups  ;  and  why  should  we  not  be  as 
jovial  and  Anacreontic  under  their  pacific  inspiration  as  if 
we  revelled  in  the  orgies  of  the  rosy  god,  and  were  stun- 
ned and  stimulated  by  all  the  cymbals  of  the  Baccha- 
nals ?  Surely  it  is  more  natural  to  make  a  toast  of  our 
mistresses  at  tea  than  at  dinner-time  ;  and  if  upon  the 
authority  of  the  "  Naevia  sex  cyathis,  septem  Justina  li- 
batur,"  we  are  to  toss  off  a  bumper  to  every  letter  of 
her  name,  be  the  idol  of  my  heart  as  interminable  as 
she  pleases  in  her  baptismal  application,  a  Polyhymnia 


MY    TEA-KETTLE.  35 


or  Sesquipedalia  at  the  least,  Bacchus  will  not  look  the 
worse  in  an  Anacreontic  for  combining  his  old  and  new 
attributes,  the  vine  and  the  tea  plant.  Let  us  try — 

FiU  the  Tea-pot,  fill! 
Round  my  rosy  temples  twine 
A  Tea-leaf  wreath,  that  I  may  sing 
Like  the  conquering  God  of  wine. 
When  the  whole  East  proclaim' d  him  King, 
When  to  the  sky,  with  music  ringing, 
Shouts  of  "lo  Bacche!"  flinging, 
Each  Satyr,  nymph,  and  piping-boy, 
Danced  around  him  mad  with  joy, 
Until  on  Ariadne's  breast 
His  flushing  cheek  he  wildly  press'd, 
The  mingled  ecstasies  to  prove 
Of  music,  wine,  Bohea,  and  love. 

Fill  the •ea-pot,  fill! 
Give  me  a  nymph  whose  lengthened  name 

In  longer  spells  my  heart  may  fetter, 
That  I  may  feed,  not  quench  my  flame, 

By  bumper-toasts  to  every  letter. 

And  so  on.  As  I'm  an  honest  man,  and  a  sober,  I  think 
these  verses,  as  flowing,  bibulous,  and  hilarious  as 
any  that  were  ever  roared  over  a  magnum  of  Port,  or 
a  beaker  of  Burgundy,  to  a  shrieking  set  of  three-bottle 
Corinthians.  Falstaif  and  his  followers  may  bluster 
about  their  sherries-sack ;  but  I  maintain  against  all 
impugners,  that  it  will  not  mount  into  the  brain  and 
fill  it  so  full  of  nimble,  fiery,  and  delectable  shapes  as 

your    genuine    Souchong,  one    cup  of   which . 

But  this  reminds  me,  before  I  go  any  farther,  to  cau- 
tion all  neophytes,  or  old  tea-drinkers,  to  abstain  from 


36  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

the  use  of  the  word  dish:  it  is  a  vile  phrase,  in  spite  of 
the  authority  of  Addison, — a  scullion  term, — washer- 
womanish — fit  only  for  the  gossips  of  the  laundry  or 
the  kitchen.  Let  them  take  the  counsel,  moreover,  of 
a  not  inexperienced  practitioner,  and  prefer  the  homely 
kettle  to  the  patrician  look  and  classical  pretensions  of 
the  urn.  All  associations  connected  with  the  latter  are 
lugubrious  and  mortuary ;  it  has  funeral,  cinerary,  and 
lachrymal  namesakes,  with  whom  we  need  not  sadden 
our  thoughts  in  the  hours  of  recreation.  Besides  it  is 
like  a  hollow  friend :  its  heart  soon  gets  cold  ;  it  ceases 
to  pour  forth  its  consolations  with  any  warmth  of  feel- 
ing, and  so  spoils  our  tea  that  it  may  gratify  our  sight. 
It  is  hallowed  by  no  fire-side  reminiscences,  fit  only  for 
some  ostentatious  tea-tippler,  whose  palate  is  in  his  eye 
or  for  some  dawdling  and  slip-shod  blue-stocking  who 
loves — 

"To  part  her  time  'twixt  reading  and  Bohea; 
To  muse,  and  spill  her  solitary  tea." 

What  revolution  in  taste  can  be  effected  without 
compromising  the  interests  of  some  individual  or  other  ? 
Here  is  a  Bardolph-faced  friend  who  tells  me  it  will  be 
very  hard  for  him  to  have  the  complexion  and  reputa- 
tion of  drunkenness  without  its  enjoyment  ;  but  there 
is  no  help  for  it — he  must  look  his  fortunes  in  the  face, 
and  reflect  that  it  is  better  to  be  accused  of  a  vice,  being 
innocent,  than  acquitted  of  it,  being  guilty.  Next 
comes  a  punster,  who  trembles  lest  his  occupation 
should  be  gone;  assuring  me  that  many  of  his  best 
jokes  would  never  have  been  relished,  had  not  his  half- 
tipsy  auditors  been  enabled  to  hear,  as  well  as  to  see 


MY    TEA-KETTLE.  37 


double  ;  and  that  the  only  good  hit  he  ever  made  at  a 
tea-table,  was  at  a  Newmarket  party,  when  incautiously 
burning  his  fingers  by  taking  up  the  toast  from  the 
fire,  and  breaking  the  plate  as  he  let  it  fall  upon  the 
floor,  he  observed  that  it  was  too  bad  to  lose  the  plate 
after  having  won  the  heat.  My  dear  sir,  as  Dr.  John- 
son said  upon  another  occasion,  rest  your  fame  for  col- 
loquial excellence  upon  that,  and  judge  from  such  a 
specimen  what  you  may  hope  to  accomplish  when  you 
become  more  copiously  saturated  with  Souchong.  Writ- 
ers as  well  as  utterers  of  good  things,  will  be  spiritual- 
ised and  clarified  in  their  intellects,  by  substituting  li- 
bations of  tea  for  those  of  wine  ;  and,  as  to  the  aver- 
ment of  the  miscalled  Teian  bard — 

"  If  with  water  you  fill  up  your  glasses, 
You'll  never  write  any  thing  wise; 
For  wine  is  the  steed  of  Parnassus, 
That  hurries  a  bard  to  the  skies." 

I  hold  it  to  be  a  pernicious,  false,  and  Bacchanalian 
heresy,  for  which  he  was  deservedly  choked  with  a 
grape-stone.  No ;  your  genuine  Apollo  sits  throned 
upon  a  pile  of  tea-chests  instead  of  Parnassus ;  your  au- 
thentic Castaly  flows  from  a  tea-pot,  your  legitimate 
Muses  haunt  the  plantations  of  Canton.  If  a  man  were 
naturally  so  prosaic  as  to  be  enabled  to  say,  with  Bene- 
dick —  "I  can  find  out  no  rhyme  to  lady  but  baby, — 
an  innocent  rhyme,"  I  defy  him  to  persevere  in  the  use 
of  this  verse-compelling  beverage,  without  committing 
poetry.  Even  a  tea-board  will  convert  and  stimulate 
the  most  inert.  Look  you  there  !  I  am  unconsciously 
lapsing  into  rhyme — an  involuntary  Iniprovisatore  ! — 


38  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 


Tea,  I  was  going  to  state,  inspires  such  warm  poetical 
desires. — Lo,  where  it  comes  again  !  One  would  imagine 
I  had  dipped  my  pen  in  Souchong  instead  of  ink.  It 
absolutely  runs  away  with  me,  perpetrating  bouts  rimts 
in  its  course,  and  forcing  me  to  commit  to  paper  the 
following 

ADDRESS    TO    MY    KETTLE. 

Leaving  some  operatic  zany 
To  celebrate  the  singers  many, 
From  Billington  to  Catalani, 
Thy  voice  I  still  prefer  to  any, — 

MY  KETTLE! 

Some  learned  singers,  when  they  try 
To  spout,  become  embarrass'd,  dry, 
And  want  thy  copious  fluency, — 

Mr  KETTLE! 

They,  when  their  inward  feelings  boil, 
Scold,  storm,  vociferate,  turmoil, 
And  make  a  most  discordant  coil, — 

MY  KETTLE! 

You,  when  you're  chafed,  but  sing  the  more ; 
And  when  just  ready  to  boil  o'er, 
In  silent  steam  your  passions  soar, — 

MY  KETTLE! 

To  hear  their  strains,  one  needs  must  bear 
Late  hours,  noise,  lassitude,  hot  air, 
And  dissipation's  dangers  share, — 

MY  KETTLE! 

But  thine,  my  nightly  Philomel, — 
Thine  is  a  voice  whose  magic  spell, 
Like  Prospero's  can  tempests  quell, 

MY  KETTLE! 


THE  WIDOW  OF  THE  GREAT  ARMY.        39 

Peace,  home,  content,  tranquillity, 
Domestic  bliss  and  friendship's  tie, 
Own  its  endearing  melody, 

MY  KETTLE! 

Others,  of  Bacchanalian  life, 
Find  nothing  in  their  cups  so  rife, 
As  wrath  and  Lapithaean  strife, — 

MY  KETTLE! 

Those  filled  by  you  a  balm  bestow, 
Warming  the  heart,  whose  social  glow 
Bids  all  the  kindly  feelings  flow, — 

MY  KETTLE! 

Then  is  thine  inspiration  seen, 
Then  is  thy  classic  tide  serene 
My  Helicon  and  Hippocrene, — 

MY  KETTLE! 

For  these,  and  more  than  I've  related, 
Joys  with  thy  name  associated, 
To  thee  this  verse  be  dedicated, — 

MY  KETTLE! 


THE  WIDOW  OF  THE  GREAT  ARMY. 

AT  the  time  that  the  great  army  under  Napoleon  per- 
ished in  the  snows  of  Russia,  a  French  woman,  stated  to 
be  of  respectable  family  and  education,  was  so  deeply 
affected  by  the  calamity  of  her  country,  and  her  melan- 
choly apprehensions  for  its  future  fate,  that  she  became 
deprived  of  her  senses,  put  on  widow's  weeds,  and 
wandered  about  Paris,  bewailing  the  fate  of  the  unfor- 
tunate armament.  Dressed  in  deep  sables,  she  may 


40  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

still  almost  daily  be  seen  in  the  Champs  Elysees,  in  the 
same  state  of  mental  alienation  ;  and  the  Parisians, 
who  allow  neither  national  nor  individual  sorrows  to 
deprive  them  of  a  heartless  joke,  have  long  since  chris- 
tened her  "  The  Widow  of  the  Great  Army."  This  un- 
fortunate female  is  supposed  to  utter  the  following  stan- 
zas at  the  period  of  the  first  invasion  : — 

Half  a  million  of  heroes — I  saw  them  all : 

O  God !  'twas  a  sight  of  awful  delight 
To  gaze  on  that  army,  the  glory  of  Gaul, 
As  it  rolTd  in  its  fierceness  of  beauty  forth, 
Like  a  glittering  torrent,  to  deluge  the  North ! 

The  war-horses'  tramp  shook  the  solid  ground, 

While  their  neighings  aha !  and  the  dread  hurra 
Of  the  myriad  mass  made  the  skies  resound, 
As  th'  invincible  Chief,  on  his  milk-white  steed, 
Vanwards  gallop'd,  their  host  to  lead. 

Sword,  sabre,  and  lance  of  thy  chivalry,  France, 
And  helmet  of  brass,  and  the  steel  cuirass, 
Flash'd  in  the  sun  as  I  saw  them  pass ; 
While  day  by  day,  in  sublime  array, 
The  glorious  pageant  roll'd  away  I 

Where  are  ye  now,  ye  myriads  ?     Hark ! 

O  God !  not  a  sound ; — they  are  stretch'd  on  the  ground, 
Silent  and  cold,  and  stiff  and  stark : 
On  their  ghastly  faces  the  snows  still  fall, 
And  one  winding-sheet  enwraps  them  all. 

The  horse  and  his  rider  are  both  o'erthrown : — 

Soldier  and  beast  form  a  common  feast 
For  the  wolf  and  the  bear ;  and,  when  day  is  flown, 
Their  teeth  gleam  white  in  the  pale  moonlight, 
As  with  crash  of  bones  they  startle  the  night. 


ON    NOSES.  41 


Oh,  whither  are  fled  those  echoes  dread, 

As  the  host  hurraed,  and  the  chargers  neigh'd, 
And  the  cannon  roar'd,  and  the  trumpets  bray'd  ?- 
Stifled  is  all  this  living  breath, 
And  hush'd  they  lie  in  the  sleep  of  death. 

They  come !  they  come  !  the  barbarian  horde ! 

Thy  foes  advance,  oh,  beautiful  France, 
To  ravage  thy  valleys  with  fire  and  sword : 
Calmuc  and  Moscovite  follow  the  track 
Of  the  Tartar  fierce  and  the  wild  Cossack. 

All  Germany  darkens  the  rolling  tide ; 

Sclavonian  dun,  Croat,  Prussian,  Hun, 
With  the  traitorous  Belgian  bands  allied ; 
While  the  Spaniards  swart,  and  the  Briton  fair, 
Their  banners  wave  in  our  southern  air. 

Sound  the  tocsin,  the  trumpet,  the  drum ! 

Heroes  of  France,  advance,  advance ! 
And  dash  the  invaders  to  earth  as  they  come ! 
Where's  the  Grand  Army  to  drive  them  back  ? — 
March,  countrymen,  march! — attack,  attack! 

Ah  me  !  my  heart — it  will  burst  in  twain ! 

One  fearful  thought,  to  my  memory  brought, 
Sickens  my  soul,  and  maddens  my  brain, — 
That  army  of  heroes,  our  glory  and  trusty 
Where  is  it?  what  is  it? — bones  and  dust! 


ON  NOSES. 

And  Liberty  plucks  Justice  by  the  nose. 

SHAKBPEABE. 

IT  has  been  settled  by  Mr.  Alison,  in  his  "  Essay  on 
the  Philosophy  of  Taste,"  that  the  sublimity  or  beauty  of 


42  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

forms  arises  altogether  from  the  associations  we  connect 
with  them,  or  the  qualities  of  which  they  are  expressive 
to  us ;  and  Sir  Joshua  Reynolds,  in  discoursing  upon 
personal  beauty,  maintains,  that  as  nature,  in  every 
nation,  has  one  fixed  or  determinate  form  towards 
which  she  is  continually  inclining,  that  form  will  inva- 
riably become  the  national  standard  of  bodily  perfection. 
"  To  instance,"  he  proceeds,  "  in  a  particular  part  of  a 
feature:  the  line  that  forms  the  ridge  of  the  nose,  is 
beautiful  when  it  is  straight ;  this,  then,  is  the  central 
form,  which  is  oftener  found  than  either  concave,  con- 
vex, or  any  other  irregular  form  that  may  be  proposed  ;" 
— but  this  observation  he  is  careful  to  limit  to  those 
countries  where  the  Grecian  nose  predominates,  for  he 
subsequently  adds,  in  speaking  of  the  ^Ethiopians,  "  I 
suppose  nobody  will  doubt,  if  one  of  their  painters  was 
to  paint  the  goddess  of  beauty,  but  that  he  would  rep- 
resent her  black,  with  thick  lips,  flat  nose,  and  woolly 
hair  ;  and  it  seems  to  me  that  he  would  act  very  un- 
naturally if  he  did  not ;  for  by  what  criterion  will  any 
one  dispute  the  propriety  of  his  idea  ?"  And  he  thus 
concludes  his  observations  on  the  subject :  "  From  what 
has  been  said,  it  may  be  inferred,  that  the  works  of 
Nature,  if  we  compare  one  species  with  another,  are  all 
equally  beautiful ;  and  that  preference  is  given  from 
custom,  or  some  association  of  ideas ;  and  that,  in 
creatures  of  the  same  species,  beauty  is  the  medium  or 
centre  of  all  various  forms."  If  this  definition  be  ac- 
curate, we  are  not  authorised  in  admiring  either  the 
Roman  or  the  Jewish  noses,  both  of  which  are  too  ex- 
orbitant and  overbearing — the  high-born  ultras  of  then- 
class  ; — still  less  can  we  fall  in  love  with  the  Tartarian 


ON    NOSES.  43 


notions,  where  the  greatest  beauties  have  the  least  noses, 
and  where,  according  to  Ruybrock,   the    wife   of  the 
celebrated  Jenghiz  Khan  was  deemed  irresistible,  be- 
cause she  had  only  two  holes  for  a  nose.     These  are  the 
radical  noses.     In  medio  tutissimus  seems  to  be  as  true 
upon  this  subject  as  almost  every  other,  and,  in  the  ap- 
plication of  the  dictum,  we  must  finally  give  the  pre- 
ference to  the  Grecian  form,  of  which  such  beautiful 
specimens  have  been  transmitted  to  us  in  their  statues, 
vases,  and  gems.     Whether  this  were  the  established 
beau  ideal  of  their  artists,  or,  as  is  more  probable,  the 
predominant  line  of  the  existing  population,  it  is  certain 
that,  in  their  sculptures,  deviations  from  it  are  very  rare. 
In  busts  from  the  living,  they  were,  of  course,  compelled 
to  conform  to  the  original ;  but  I  can  easily  imagine, 
that  if  it  did  not  actually  break  the  Grecian  chisel,  it 
must  have  nearly  broken  the  heart  of  the  statuary,  who 
was  doomed  to  scoop  out  of  the  marble  the  mean  and 
indented  pug-nose  of  Socrates.     Whence  did  that  ex- 
traordinary people  derive  their  noble  figure  and  beauti- 
ful  features,  which   they  idealised   into  such   sublime 
symmetry  and  exquisite  loveliness  in  the  personification 
of  their  gods  and  goddesses  ?     If  they  were,  indeed,  as 
the  inhabitants  of  Attica  pretended,  the  Autocthones, 
or  original  natives,  springing  from  the  earth,  it  were  an 
easy  solution  to  maintain,  that  the  soil  and  climate  <  f 
that  country  are  peculiarly  adapted  to  the  most  fault- 
less and  perfect  development  of  the  human  form  :  but 
if,  as  more  sober  history  affirms,  they  were  a  colony 
from  Sais  in  Egypt,  led  by  Cecrops  into  Attica,  we  must 
be  utterly  at  a  loss  to  account  for  their  form,  features, 
and  complexion.     Traces  of  this  derivation  are  clearly 


44  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

discernible  in  their  religion  and  arts ;  and  the  sources  of 
their  various  orders  of  architecture  are,  even  now,  in- 
con  testably  evident  in  the  ancient  and  stupendous 
temples  upon  the  banks  of  the  Nile :  in  none  of  whose 
sculptures,  however,  do  we  discover  any  approximation 
to  the  beautiful  features  and  graceful  contour  of  the 
Greeks.  ^Ethiopians,  Persians,  and  Egyptians,  are 
separately  recognisable,  but  there  are  no  figures  resem- 
bling the  Athenians.  The  features  of  the  Sphinx  are 
Nubian;  the  mummies  are  invariably  dark -coloured ; 
and  though  their  noses  are  generally  compressed  by  the 
embalming  bandages,  there  is  reason  to  believe  that 
they  have  lost  very  little  of  their  elevation  in  the  pro- 
cess. Leaving  the  elucidation  of  this  obscure  matter  to 
more  profound  antiquaries,  let  us  return  to  our  central 
point  of  beauty — the  Nose. 

A  Slawkenbergius  occasionally  appeared  among  the 
Greeks,  as  well  as  the  moderns ;  but  from  the  exube- 
rant ridicule  and  boisterous  raillery  with  which  the 
monster  was  assailed,  we  may  presume  that  a  genuine 
proboscis  was  of  rare  occurrence.  Many  of  the  lam- 
poons and  jokes,  circulated  by  the  wits  of  Athens,  are 
as  extravagant  as  the  noses  themselves,  and  enough  has 
been  preserved  to  fill  a  horse's  nose-bag.  Let  the  fol- 
lowing, from  the  Anthology,  suffice  as  a  sample : — 

"  Dick  cannot  wipe  his  nostrils  if  he  pleases, 

(So  long  his  nose  is,  and  his  arms  so  short ;) 
Nor  ever  cries  "  God  bless  me !"  when  he  sneezes ; 
He  cannot  hear  so  distant  a  report." 

Or  this,  which  is  attributed  to  the  Emperor  Trajan : — 


ON    NOSES.  45 


"  Let  Dick  some  summer's  day  expose 
Before  the  sun  his  monstrous  nose, 
And  stretch  his  giant  mouth  to  cause 
Its  shade  to  fall  upon  his  jaws ; 
"With  nose  so  long,  and  mouth  so  wide, 
And  those  twelve  grinders  side  by  side, 
Dick,  with  a  very  little  trial, 
"Would  make  an  excellent  sun-dial." 

Many  of  these  epigrams  were  derived  by  the  Greeks 
from  the  Oriental  Facetiae ;  and  if  we  would  trace  the 
pedigree  of  a  joke,  which  even  at  our  last  dinner-party 
set  the  table  in  a  roar,  we  should  probably  hunt  it  back 
to  the  symposia  of  Athens,  and  the  festive  halls  of 
Bagdat.  It  must  be  confesssed  that,  in  several  of  these 
instances,  if  the  wit  be  old,  it  is  very  little  of  its  age  ; 
for  Hierocles,  like  his  successor  Joe  Miller,  seems  now 
and  then  to  have  thought  it  a  good  joke  to  put  in  a 
bad  one. 

Ovid,  it  is  well  known,  derived  his  sobriquet  of  Naso 
from  the  undue  magnitude  of  that  appendage,  though 
it  did  not  deter  him  from  aspiring  to  the  affections  of 
Julia,  the  daughter  of  Augustus.  It  is  not,  perhaps,  so 
generally  known,  that  the  cry  of  "  Nosey !"  issuing 
from  the  gallery  of  the  play-house,  when  its  inmates 
are  musically  inclined,  is  the  nick-name,  which  has  long 
survived  a  former  leader  of  the  band,  to  whom  nature 
had  been  unsparingly  bountiful  in  that  prominent  fea- 
ture ;  and  who,  could  he  have  foreseen  his  immortality 
among  the  gods,  might  have  exclaimed,  with  his  illus- 
trious namesake, 

"  Parte  tamen  meliore  mei  super  alta  perennis 
Astra  ferar,  nomenque  erit  indelebile  nostrum." 


46  GAIETIES    AXD    GRAVITIES. 

Though  a  roomy  nose  may  afford  a  good  handle  for 
ridicule,  there  are  cases  in  which  a  certain  magnificence 
and  superabundance  of  that  feature,  if  not  abstractedly 
becoming,  has,  at  least,  something  appropriate  in  its 
redundancy,  according  with  the  characteristics  of  its 
wearer.  It  has  advantages  as  well  as  disadvantages. 
A  man  of  any  spirit  is  compelled  to  take  cognisance  of 
offences  committed  under  his  very  nose,  but  with  such 
a  promontory  as  we  have  been  describing,  they  may 
come  within  the  strict  letter  of  the  phrase,  and  yet  be 
far  enough  removed  to  afford  him  a  good  plea  for  pro- 
testing that  they  escaped  his  observation.  He  is  not 
bound  to  see  within  his  nose,  much  less  beyond  it. 
Should  a  quarrel,  however,  become  inevitable,  the  very 
construction  of  this  member  compels  him  to  meet  his 
adversary  half  way.  Nothing  could  reconcile  us  to  a 
bulbous  excrescence  of  this  inflated  description,  if  we 
saw  it  appended  to  a  poor  little  insignificant  creature, 
giving  him  the  appearance  of  the  Toucan,  or  spoon- 
bill ;  and  suggesting  the  idea  of  his  being  tied  to  his 
own  nose  to  prevent  his  straying.  But  suppose  the 
case  of  a  burly,  jovial,  corpulent  alderman,  standing 
behind  such  an  appendage,  with  all  its  indorsements, 
riders,  addenda,  extra-parochial  appurtenances,  and  Ta- 
liacotian  supplements,  like  a  sow  with  her  whole  litter 
of  pigs,  or  (to  speak  more  respectfully)  like  a  venerable 
old  abbey,  with  all  its  projecting  chapels,  oratories,  re- 
fectories, and  abutments ;  and  it  will  seem  to  dilate  it- 
self before  its  wearer  with  an  air  of  portly  and  appropriate 
companionship.  I  speak  not  here  of  a  simple  bottle- 
nose,  but  one  of  a  thousand  bottles,  a  polypetalous 
enormity,  whose  blushing  honors,  as  becoming  to  it  as 


ON    NOSES.  47 


the  stars,  crosses,  and  ribbons  of  a  successful  general, 
are  trophies  of  past  victories,  the  colors  won  in  tavern- 
campaigns.  They  recall  to  us  the  clatter  of  knives,  the 
slaughter  of  turtle,  the  shedding  of  claret,  the  degluti- 
tion of  magnums.  Esurient  and  bibulous  reminiscences 
ooze  from  its  surface,  and  each  protuberance  is  histori- 
cal. One  is  the  record  of  a  Pitt-club  dinner ;  another 
of  a  corporation  feast;  a  third  commemorates  a  tipsy 
carousal,  in  support  of  religion  and  social  order ;  others 
attest  their  owner's  civic  career,  "  until,  at  last,  he  de- 
voured his  way  to  the  Lord  Mayor's  mansion,  as  a 
mouse  in  a  cheese  makes  a  large  house  for  himself  by 
continually  eating :" — and  the  whole  pendulous  mass, 
as  if  it  heard  the  striking  up  of  the  band  at  a  public 
dinner  on  the  entrance  of  the  viands,  actually  seems 
to  wag  to  the  tune  of  "  O,  the  roast  Beef  of  Old  Eng- 
land !" 

As  there  are  many  who  prefer  the  arch  of  the  old 
bridges  to  the  straight  line  of  the  Waterloo,  so  there 
are  critics  who  extend  the  same  taste  to  the  bridge  of 
the  nose,  deeming  the  Roman  handsomer  than  the 
Grecian — a  feeling  which  may  probably  be  traced  to 
association.  A  medallist,  whose  coins  of  the  Roman 
emperors  generally  exhibit  the  convex  projection,  con- 
ceives it  expressive  of  grandeur,  majesty,  and  military 
pre-eminence;  while  a  collector  of  Greek  vases  will 
limit  his  idea  of  beauty  to  the  straight  line  depictured 
on  his  favorite  antiques.  The  Roman  unquestionably 
has  its  beauties ;  its  outline  is  bold,  flowing,  and  dig- 
nified ;  it  looks  as  if  Nature's  own  hand  had  fashioned 
it  for  one  of  her  noble  varieties ;  but  the  term  has  be- 
come a  misnomer ;  it  is  no  longer  applicable  to  the  in- 


48  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

habitants  of  the  Eternal  City,  whose  nasal  bridges 
seem  to  have  subsided  with  the  decline  and  fall  of  their 
empire. 

While  we  are  upon  the  subject  of  large  noses,  we 
must  not  forget  that  of  the  Jews,  which  has  length  and 
breadth  in  abundance,  but  is  too  often  so  ponderous, 
ungraceful,  and  shapeless,  as  to  discard  every  idea  of 
dignity,  and  impart  to  the  countenance  a  character  of 
burlesque  and  ugly  disproportion.  It  is  not  one  of 
nature's  primitive  forms,  but  a  degeneracy  produced  by 
perpetual  intermarriages  of  the  same  race  during  suc- 
cessive ages. 

Inest  sua  gratia  parvis  ;  let  it  not  be  imagined 
that  all  our  attention  is  to  be  lavished  upon  these  folio 
noses ;  the  duodecimos  and  Elzevirs  have  done  execu- 
tion in  the  days  that  are  gone,  and  shall  they  pass 
away  from  our  memories  like  the  forms  of  last  year's 
clouds  ?  Can  we  forget  "  le  petit  nez  retrousse "  of 
MarmonteFs  heroine,  which  captivated  a  sultan,  and 
overturned  the  laws  of  an  empire  ?  Was  not  the  down- 
fall of  another  empire,  as  recorded  in  the  immortal  work 
of  Gibbon,  written  under  a  nose  of  the  very  snubbiest 
construction  ?  So  concave  and  intangible  was  it,  that 
when  his  face  was  submitted  to  the  touch  of  a  blind 
old  French  lady,  who  used  to  judge  of  her  acquaint- 
ance by  feeling  their  features,  she  exclaimed,  "  Voila 
une  mauvaise  plaisanterie  !"  Wilkes,  equally  unfortu- 
nate in  this  respect,  and  remarkably  ugly  besides,  used 
to  maintain,  that  in  the  estimation  of  society  a  hand- 
some man  had  only  half  an  hour's  start  of  him,  as 
within  that  period  he  would  recover  by  his  conversation 
what  he  had  lost  by  his  looks.  Perhaps  the  most  in- 


ON    NOSES.  49 


surmountable  objection  to  the  pug  or  cocked-up  nose, 
is  the  flippant,  distasteful,  or  contemptuous  expression 
it  conveys.  To  turn  up  our  noses  is  a  colloquialism  for 
disdain  ;  and  even  those  of  the  ancient  Romans,  in- 
flexible as  they  appear,  could  curl  themselves  up  in  the 
fastidiousness  of  concealed  derision.  "Altior  homini 
tantum  nasus,"  says  Pliny,  "  quam  novi  mores  subdolae 
irrisioni  dicavere ;"  and  Horace  talks  of  sneers  sus- 
pended, "  naso  ad  unco."  It  cannot  be  denied,  that 
those  who  have  been  snubbed  by  nature,  not  unfre- 
quently  look  as  if  they  were  anxious  to  take  their  re- 
venge by  snubbing  others. 

As  a  friend  to  noses  of  all  denominations,  I  must 
here  enter  my  solemn  protest  against  a  barbarous  abuse 
to  which  they  are  too  often  subjected,  by  converting 
them  into  dust-holes  and  soot-bags,  under  the  fashion- 
able pretext  of  taking  snuff ;  an  abomination  for  which 
Sir  Walter  Raleigh  is  responsible,  and  which  ought  to 
have  beeen  included  in  the  articles  of  his  impeachment. 
When  some  "  Sir  Plume,  of  amber  snuff-box  justly 
vain,"  after  gently  tapping  its  top  with  a  look  of  diplo- 
matic complacency,  embraces  a  modicum  of  its  contents 
with  his  finger  and  thumb,  curves  round  his  hand,  so 
as  to  display  the  brilliant  on  his  little  finger,  and  com- 
mits the  high-dried  pulvilio  to  the  air,  so  that  nothing 
but  its  impalpable  aroma  ascends  into  his  nose,  we  may 
smile  at  the  custom  as  a  harmless  and  not  ungraceful 
foppery:  but  when  a  filthy  clammy  compost  is  per- 
petually thrust  up  the  nostrils  with  a  voracious  pig-like 
snort,  it  is  a  practice  as  disgusting  to  the  beholders  as  I 
believe  it  to  be  injurious  to  the  offender.  The  nose  is 
the  emunctory  of  the  brain,  and  when  its  functions  are 
3 


50  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

impeded,  the  whole  system  of  the  head  becomes  de- 
ranged. A  professed  snuff-taker  is  generally  recognis- 
able by  his  total  loss  of  the  sense  of  smelling — by  his 
snuffling  and  snorting — by  his  pale  sodden  complexion 
— and  by  that  defective  modulation  of  the  voice,  called 
talking  through  the  nose,  though  it  is  in  fact  an  in- 
ability so  to  talk,  from  the  partial  or  total  stoppage  of 
the  passage.  Not  being  provided  with  an  ounce  of 
civet,  I  will  not  suffer  my  imagination  to  wallow  in  all 
the  revolting  concomitants  of  this  dirty  trick  :  but  I 
cannot  refrain  from  an  extract,  by  which  we  may  form 
some  idea  of  the  time  consumed  in  its  performance. 
"  Every  professed,  inveterate,  and  incurable  snuff-taker 
(says  Lord  Stanhope),  at  a  moderate  computation  takes 
one  pinch  in  ten  minutes.  Every  pinch,  with  the 
agreeable  ceremony  of  blowing  and  wiping  the  nose, 
and  other  incidental  circumstances,  consumes  a  minute 
and  a  half.  One  minute  and  a  half,  out  of  every  ten, 
allowing  sixteen  hours  to  a  snuff-taking  day,  amounts 
to  two  hours  and  twenty-four  minutes  out  of  every 
natural  day,  or  one  day  out  of  every  ten.  One  day 
out  of  every  ten  amounts  to  thirty-six  days  and  a  half 
in  a  year.  Hence,  if  we  suppose  the  practice  to  be  per- 
sisted in  forty  years,  two  entire  years  of  the  snuff-taker's 
life  will  be  dedicated  to  tickling  his  nose,  and  two  more 
to  blowing  it.  Taken  medicinally,  or  as  a  simple 
sternutatory,  it  may  be  excused  ;  but  the  moment  your 
snuff  is  not  to  be  sneezed  at,  you  are  the  slave  of  a 
habit  which  literally  makes  you  grovel  in  the  dust ; 
your  snuff-box  has  seized  you  as  Saint  Dunstan  did  the 
Devil,  and  if  the  red-hot  pincers,  with  which  he  per- 
formed the  feat,  could  occasionally  start  up  from  an 


ON    NOSES.  51 


Ormskirk  snuff-box,  it  might  have  a  salutary  effect  in 
checking  this  propensity  among  our  real  and  pseudo- 
fashionables. 

It  was  my  intention  to  have  written  a  dissertation 
upon  the  probable  form  of  the  nose  mentioned  in 
Solomon's  Song,  which,  we  are  informed,  was  like  "  the 
tower  of  Lebanon  looking  toward  Damascus ;"  and  I 
had  prepared  some  very  erudite  conjectures  as  to  the 
composition  of  the  perfume  which  suggested  to  Catul- 
lus the  magnificent  idea  of  wishing  to  be  all  nose : 

"  Quod  tu  cum  olfacies,  Deos  rogabis, 
Totum  ut  te  faciant,  Fabulle,  nasum." 

But  I  apprehend  my  readers  will  begin  to  think  I 
have  led  them  by  the  nose  quite  long  enough ;  and 
lest  they  should  suspect  that  I  am  making  a  handle  of 
the  subject,  I  shall  conclude  at  once  with  a 

SONNET   TO   MY   OWN   NOSE. 

O  nose !  thou  rudder  in  my  face's  centre, 

Since  I  must  follow  thee  until  I  die, — 
Since  we  are  bound  together  by  indenture, 

The  master  thou,  and  the  apprentice  I, — 
O  be  to  your  Telemachus  a  Mentor, 

Though  oft  invisible,  for  ever  nigh ; 
Guard  him  from  all  disgrace  and  misadventure, 

From  hostile  tweak,  or  Love's  blind  mastery. 
So  shalt  thou  quit  the  city's  stench  and  smoke, 
For  hawthorn  lanes,  and  copses  of  young  oak, 

Scenting  the  gales  of  Heaven,  that  have  not  yet 
Lost  their  fresh  fragrance  since  the  morning  broke, 

And  breath  of  flowers  "  with  rosy  May-dews  wet," 

The  primrose — cowslip — blue-bell — violet. 


52  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 


WALKS  IN  THE  GARDEN. 

I. 

Heureux  qui,  dans  le  sein  de  ses  dieux  domestiques, 
Se  derobe  ail  fracas  des  tempetes  publiques, 
Et  dans  un  doux  abri,  trompant  tons  les  regards, 
Cultive  ses  jardins,  les  vertus,  et  les  arts. 

DELILLE. 

A  GENTLE  fertilizing  shower  has  just  fallen — the  light 
clouds  are  breaking  away — a  rainbow  is  exhibiting  itself 
half  athwart  the  horizon,  as  the  sun  shoots  forth  its  rays 
with  renewed  splendour,  and  the  reader  is  invited  to 
choose  the  auspicious  moment,  and  accompany  the 
writer  into  his  garden.  He  will  not  exclaim  with  Dr. 
Darwin, 

"  Stay  your  rude  steps !  whose  throbbing  breasts  enfold 
The  legion  fiends  of  glory  or  of  gold  ;" — 

but  he  would  warn  from  his  humble  premises  all  those 
who  have  magnificent  notions  upon  the  subject ;  who 
despise  the  paltry  pretensions  of  a  bare  acre  of  ground 
scarcely  out  of  the  smoke  of  London,  and  require 
grandeur  of  extent 'and  expense  before  they  will  conde- 
scend to  be  interested.  To  such  he  would  recommend  the 
perusal  of  Spence's  translation  from  the  Jesuits'  Letters, 
giving  an  account  of  the  Chinese  emperor's  pleasure- 
ground,  which  contained  200  palaces,  besides  as  many 
contiguous  ones  for  the  eunuchs,  all  gilt,  painted,  and 
varnished;  in  whose  enclosure  were  raised  hills  from 
twenty  to  sixty  feet  high ;  streams  and  lakes,  one  of  the 
latter  five  miles  round ;  serpentine  bridges,  with  triumphal 


WALKS    IN    THE    GARDEN.  53 


arches  at  each  end :  undulating  colonnades ;  and  in  the 
centre  of  the  fantastic  paradise  a  square  town,  each  side 
a  mile  long.  Or  they  may  recreate  their  fancies  with 
the  stupendous  hanging  gardens  of  Babylon — a  subject 
which  no  living  imagination  could  perfectly  embody  and 
depict,  unless  it  be  his  who  has  realized  upon  canvass 
such  a  glorious  conception  of  Belshazzar's  feast.  Or  he 
may  peruse  Sir  William  Temple's  description  of  a  per- 
fect garden,  with  its  equilateral  parterres,  fountains,  and 
statues,  "  so  necessary  to  break  the  effect  of  large  grass- 
plots,  which,  he  thinks,  have  an  ill  effect  upon  the  eye ;" 
its  four  quarters  regularly  divided  by  gravel  walks,  with 
statues  at  the  intersections ;  its  terraces,  stone  flights  of 
steps,  cloisters  covered  with  lead,  and  all  the  formal 
filigree-work  of  the  French  and  Dutch  schools. — If  the 
reader  be  a  lover  of  poetry,  let  him  forget  for  a  moment, 
if  he  can,  the  fine  taste  and  splendid  diction  of  Milton, 
in  describing  the  Garden  of  Eden,  the  happy  abode  of 
our  first  parents — 

" From  that  sapphire  fount  the  crisped  brooks, 

Rolling  on  orient  pearl  and  sands  of  gold, 
With  mazy  error  under  pendant  shades 
Ran  nectar,  visiting  each  plant,  and  fed 
Flow'rs  worthy  of  Paradise,  which  not  nice  art 
In  beds  and  curious  knots,  but  nature  boon, 
Pour'd  forth  profuse  on  hill,  and  dale,  and  plain, 
Both  where  the  morning  sun  first  warmly  smote 
The  open  field,  and  where  the  unpierced  shade 
Imbrown'd  the  noontide  bowers.    Thus  was  this  place 
A  happy,  rural  seat  of  various  view." — 

Let  him  also  banish  from  his  recollection  the  far-famed 
garden  of  Alcinous,  which  however,  as  Walpole  justly 


54  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

observes,  after  being  divested  of  Homer's  harmonious 
Greek  and  bewitching  poetry,  was  a  small  orchard  and 
vineyard,  with  some  beds  of  herbs,  and  two  fountains 
that  watered  them,  enclosed  within  a  quickset-hedge, 
and  its  whole  compass  only  four  acres.  Such  was  the 
rural  magnificence  which  was  in  that  age  deemed  an 
appropriate  appendage  to  a  palace  with  brazen  walls 
and  columns  of  silver. — Modern  times,  however,  have 
shown  us  how  much  may  be  accomplished  in  a  small 
space.  Pope,  with  the  assistance  of  Lord  Peterborough, 
"  to  form  his  quincunx,  and  to  rank  his  vines,"  contrived 
to  impart  every  variety  of  scenery  to  a  spot  of  five 
acres ;  and  might  not,  perhaps,  have  been  insincere 
when  he  declared,  that  of  all  his  works,  he  was  most 
proud  of  his  garden. — But  a  truce  to  these  deprecations 
and  dallyings  with  our  own  modesty :  the  breezes  are 
up,  the  sky  is  cloudless :  let  us  sally  forth,  and  indulge 
in  the  associations  and  chit-chat  suggested  by  the  first 
objects  that  we  encounter. 

This  border  is  entirely  planted  with  evergreens,  so 
benignantly  contrived  by  nature  for  refreshing  us  with 
their  summer  verdure  and  cheerfulness,  amid  the  steri- 
rility  and  gloom  of  winter.  This,  with  its  graceful  form, 
dark-green  hue,  and  substantial  texture,  is  the  prickly- 
leaved  Phillyrsea,  said  to  have  been  first  brought  into 
Europe  by  the  Argonauts,  from  the  island  of  the  same 
name  in  the  Pontus  Euxinus.  From  the  river  Fhasis 
in  Colchis  these  voyagers  are  reported  to  have  first  in- 
troduced pheasants,  though  many  writers  contend  that 
the  whole  expedition  was  fabulous,  and  that  all  the 
bright  imaginings  and  poetical  embellishments  lavished 
upon  the  Golden  Fleece,  resolve  themselves  into  the 


WALKS    IN    THE    GARDEN.  55 

simple  and  not  very  dignified  fact  of  spreading  sheep- 
skins across  the  torrents  that  flowed  from  Mount  Cau- 
casus, to  arrest  the  particles  of  gold  brought  down  by 
the  waters.  Our  own  Crusades,  however  irrational  their 
object,  were  attended  with  many  beneficial  results,  not 
only  introducing  us  to  the  knowledge  of  Saracenic 
architecture,  but  supplying  our  European  gardens  with 
many  of  the  choicest  Oriental  productions.  While  we 
are  on  the  subject  of  the  Crusades,  let  us  not  omit  to 
notice  this  Planta  genista,  or  broom,  said  to  have  been 
adopted  in  those  wars  as  a  heraldic  bearing,  and 
ultimately  to  have  furnished  a  name  to  our  noble 
English  family,  the  Plantagenets.  Next  to  it  is  the 
Arbutus,  the  most  graceful  and  beautiful  of  all  plants, 
and  nearly  singular  in  bearing  its  flowers  and  straw- 
berry-like fruit  at  the  same  time,  although  the  florets  be 
but  the  germ  of  the  next  year's  fruit.  Virgil  seems  to 
have  been  very  partial  to  this  elegant  shrub.  By  its 
side  is  a  small  plant  of  that  particular  Ilex,  or  holm  oak, 
on  which,  in  the  south  of  Europe,  more  especially  in 
Crete,  are  found  those  little  insects,  or  worms,  called 
kermes,  whence  a  brilliant  scarlet  dye  is  extracted,  and 
which  are  so  rapidly  reproduced,  that  they  often  afford 
two  crops  in  a  year.  From  these  small  worms  the 
French  have  derived  the  word  vermeil,  and  we  our  ver- 
milion ;  though  the  term  is  a  misnomer,  as  the  genuine 
vermilion  is  a  mineral  preparation.  The  Juniper-tree 
need  not  detain  us  long,  now  that  its  berries  are  no 
longer  used  for  flavouring  gin,  the  distillers  substituting 
for  that  purpose  oil  of  turpentine,  which,  though  it 
nearly  resembles  the  berries  in  flavour,  possesses  none 
of  their  valuable  qualities.  Box  and  Arbor  vitse,  those 


56  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

treasures  of  our  ancient  gardeners,  may  also  exclaim 
that  their  occupation  is  nearly  gone,  since  the  taste  for 
verdant  sculpture  is  exploded,  and  giants,  animals, 
monsters,  coats  of  arms,  and  peacocks,  no  longer  startle 
us  at  every  turn  *.  Yews  also,  which,  from  their  being 
so  easily  tonsile,  were  invaluable  for  forming  mazes,  now 
only  retain  their  station  in  our  church-yards,  where  they 
were  originally  ordered  to  be  planted  by  law,  that,  upon 
occasion,  their  tough  branches  might  afford  a  ready 
supply  of  bows.  But  this  Laurel  cannot  be  so  easily 
dismissed  ;  it  is  literally  and  truly  an  evergreen,  for 
classical  associations  assure  to  it  an  imperishable  youth 
and  freshness.  Into  this  tree  was  Daphne  metamor- 
phosed when  she  fled  from  Apollo  in  the  vale  of  Tempe ; 
with  these  leaves  did  the  enamoured  god  bind  his  brows, 
and  decree  that  it  should  be  for  ever  sacred  to  his 
divinity ;  since  when,  as  all  true  poets  believe,  it  has 
been  an  infallible  preservative  against  lightning; — and 
from  tufted  bowers  of  this  plant  did  the  Delphic  girls 
rush  out  upon  Mount  Parnassus,  when  with  music, 
dancing,  and  enthusiastic  hymns,  they  celebrated  the 
festival  of  the  god  of  day.  A  wreath  of  laurel  was  the 
noblest  reward  to  which  virtue  and  ambition  aspired, 

*  This  false  taste,  however,  may  boast  the  sanction  of  a  most 
classical  age.  Pliny,  in  the  description  of  his  Tuscan  Villa, 
might  be  supposed  to  be  portraying  some  of  the  worst  speci- 
mens of  the  art  of  gardening  which  our  own  country  exhibited 
in  King  William's  time,  dwelling,  with  apparent  pleasure,  on 
box-trees  cut  into  monsters,  animals,  letters,  and  the  names  of 
the  master  and  artificer ;  with  the  usual  appendages  of  slopes, 
terraces,  water-spouts,  rectangular  walks,  and  the  regular  alter- 
nations by  which  "half  the  garden  just  reflects  the  other." 


WALKS    IN    THE    GARDEN.  57 

before  the  world  became  venal,  and  fell  down  to  worship 
the  golden  calf.  Caesar  wore  his,  it  is  said,  to  hide  a 
defect ;  and  our  modern  kings  have  little  better  plea  for 
their  crowns,  from  the  Tartar  dandy  down  to  Ferdinand 
the  Embroiderer.  Yonder  is  the  Laurus,  or  bay -tree, 
a  garland  of  whose  leaves  .was  deemed  their  noblest 
recompense  by  ancient  poets ;  but  our  modern  Laureates, 
not  even  content  with  the  addition  of  a  hundred  pounds 
and  a  butt  of  sack,  must  have  pensions  and  snug  little 
sinecures  besides.  Virgil  places  Anchises  in  Elysium,  in 
a  grove  of  sweet-scented  bays.  Those  three  shrubs 
planted  close  together  are  the  Privet,  and  two  varieties 
of  Holly,  so  placed  that  their  black,  yellow,  and  red 
berries  might  be  intermixed ; — the  Misletoe,  with  its 
transparent  pearls,  would  have  formed  a  beautiful  ad- 
dition ;  but  it  is  a  parasite,  and  requires  larger  trees  to 
support  it.  On  New  Year's  Day  the  ancient  Druids 
went  out  to  seek  this  plant  with  hymns,  ceremonies, 
and  rejoicings,  distributing  it  again  among  the  people 
as  something  sacred  and  auspicious. 

Two  or  three  hundred  years  hence  this  young  plant, 
which  has  only  lately  been  added  to  the  garden,  may 
become  a  majestic  Cypress :  it  is  of  very  slow  growth, 
and  still  slower  decay,  on  which  account  the  ancients 
used  it  for  the  statues  of  their  gods.  The  gates  of  St. 
Peter's  church  at  Rome,  made  of  this  wood,  had  lasted 
from  the  time  of  Constantine,  eleven  hundred  years,  as 
fresh  as  new,  when  Pope  Eugenius  IV.  ordered  gates  of 
brass  in  their  stead.  Some  will  have  it  that  the  wood 
Gophir,  of  which  Noah's  ark  was  made,  was  cypress. 
Plato  preferred  it  to  brass  for  writing  his  laws  on ;  the 
Athenians,  according  to  Thucydides,  buried  their  heroes 
3* 


58  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

in  coffins  of  this  wood,  and  many  of  the  Egyptian 
mummy-chests  are  formed  of  the  same  material.  The 
beautiful  youth  who  killed  Apollo's  favourite  stag,  was 
metamorphosed  into  this  tree. — Those  taller  trees  at  the 
back  of  the  plantation  are  Firs  and  Pines,  sacred  in  the 
olden  time  to  Pan.  Unacquainted  with  brandy,  the 
ancients  used  to  tap  these  trees  for  a  species  of  turpen- 
tine to  fortify  and  preserve  their  wines,  whence  the 
Bacchanalian  Thyrsus  was  always  terminated  with  a  fir 
cone.  Our  garden  cannot  boast  a  single  Pinaster ;  but 
there  is  a  noble  one  on  the  lawn  of  the  Episcopal  Palace 
at  Fulham,  whence  these  large  flakes  of  smooth  bark 
were  lately  peeled  off,  and,  by  subdividing  them  into 
thin  laminae,  they  may  be  written  on  like  so  many 
sheets  of  paper,  without  the  smallest  preparation.  For 
this  purpose  they  were  used  by  the  ancients,  who  also 
formed  a  papyrus  from  the  bark  of  the  mulberry -tree, 
whence  the  Latin  word  liber  signified  both  the  bark  of 
a  tree,  and  a  book;  and  the  term  folium,  a  leaf,  was  on 
the  same  account  equally  applied  to  both.  From  liber 
comes  libellus,  a  little  book  ;  and  hence  have  we  derived 
our  Libel  law,  with  all  its  difficulties  and  anomalous  in- 
flictions. Who  would  have  thought  that,  amid  all  the 
delightful  associations  of  our  garden,  the  Attorney- 
General  would  have  popped  his  gown  and  wig  upon 
our  thoughts  from  behind  the  peaceful  bark  of  a  pine  ? 
Leaving  these  evergreens,  let  us  for  a  moment  take 
a  seat  beneath  this  beautiful  Plane,  a  tree  which  was 
brought  originally  from  the  Levant  to  Rome,  and 
formed  such  a  favourite  decoration  in  the  villas  of  her 
greatest  orators  and  statesmen,  that  w«*  read  of  their 
irrigating  them  with  wine  instead  of  water.  Pliny  af- 


WALKS    IN    THE    GARDEN.  59 

firms,  that  no  tree  defends  more  effectually  from  the 
heat  of  the  sun  in  summer,  nor  admits  its  rays  more 
kindly  in  the  winter.  Its  introduction  into  England  is 
generally  ascribed  to  Lord  Bacon,  who  planted  a  noble 
parcel  of  them  at  Verulam  : — nor  can  I  gaze  through 
its  branches  upon  the  blue  benignant  heavens,  without 
participating  that  enthusiasm  of  natural  religion  by 
which  Bacon  himself  was  actuated,  when  he  occasionally 
walked  forth  in  a  gentle  shower  without  any  covering 
on  his  head,  in  order,  as  he  said,  that  he  might  feel  the 
spirit  of  the  universe  descending  upon  him.  Mention 
is  made  of  a  plane-tree  growing  at  a  villa  of  the  Em- 
peror Caligula,  whose  hollow  trunk  was  capacious 
enough  to  contain  ten  or  twelve  persons  at  dinner,  with 
their  attendants ;  but  the  most  celebrated  upon  record, 
is  that  with  which  Xerxes  was  so  much  smitten,  that  he 
halted  his  whole  army  for  some  days  to  admire  it ;  col- 
lecting the  jewels  of  his  whole  court  to  adorn  it ;  neg- 
lecting all  the  concerns  of  his  grand  expedition,  while 
he  passionately  addressed  it  as  his  mistress,  his  minion, 
his  goddess ;  and,  when  the  finally  tore  himself  away, 
causing  a  representation  of  it  to  be  stamped  on  a  gold 
medal,  which  he  continually  wore  about  his  neck. 

Some  interesting  reflections  will  be  suggested  by  the 
mere  nomenclature  of  plants,  if  we  attend  to  a  few  of 
the  more  common  sorts,  as  we  stray  along  the  borders, 
and  through  the  green-house.  This  little  elegant  flower, 
with  its  hoar  and  dark  green  leaves,  and  golden  crown, 
has  had  two  sponsors ;  having  first  been  honoured  with 
the  name  of  Parthenis,  imparted  to  it  by  the  Virgin 
Goddess,  until  Artemisia,  the  wife  of  Mausolus,  adopted 
it,  and  ordered  that  it  should  bear  her  own.  The  columns, 


60  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

and  obelisks,  and  towers  of  the  far-famed  mausoleum  built 
by  this  Queen  have  gradually  crumbled,  until  they  have 
become  so  effectually  mingled  with  the  dust,  that  even 
the  site  of  one  of  the  wonders  of  the  world  is  utterly 
unknown  ;  while  this  fragile  flower,  immutable  and  im- 
mortal, continues  precisely  the  same  as  when  her  youth- 
ful fingers  first  pruned  its  leaves  in  the  windows  of  her 
palace.  In  this  Teucrium,  or  tree  germander,  we  recog- 
nise the  name  of  King  Teucer,  who  first  introduced  it 
among  his  Phrygian  subjects,  as  well  as  the  worship  of 
Cybele,  and  the  dances  of  the  Corybantes.  Black  Hel- 
lebore, or  melampodium,  is  not  very  inviting  in  its  as- 
sociations, if  we  merely  consider  its  dangerous  qualities ; 
but  it  possesses  an  historical  interest,  when  we  recollect, 
that  with  this  plant  Melampus  cured  the  mad  daughters 
of  King  Prsetus,  and  received  the  eldest  in  marriage  for 
his  reward.  Euphorbia  commemorates  the  physician 
of  Juba,  a  Moorish  prince ;  and  Gentiana  immortalizes 
a  King  of  Illyria.  *  These  references  might  be  extended 
among  ancient  names  to  the  end  of  our  walk ;  but  we 
will  now  advert  to  a  few  of  the  more  modern  derivations. 
Tournefort  gave  to  this  scarlet  jasmine  the  name  of 
Bignonia,  in  honour  of  Abbot  Bignon,  librarian  to  Louis 
XIV.  The  Browallia  demissa  and  elata  record  a  botanist 
of  humble  origin,  who  afterwards  became  Bishop  of 
Upsal ;  and  the  French,  by  a  Greek  pun  upon  Buona- 
parte's name,  introduced  a  Calomeria  into  their  botan- 
ical catalogue,  although  it  has  now  probably  changed 
its  name  with  the  dynasty.  Linnaeus,  in  his  Critica 
Botanica,  has,  in  several  instances,  drawn  a  fanciful 

*  See  Smith's  Introduction  to  Botany,  p.  374. 


WALKS    IN    THE    GARDEN.  61 

analogy  between  botanists  and  their  appropriate  plants ; 
but  as  it  might  be  tedious  to  go  more  minutely  into  this 
subject,  the  reader  can  refer  to  the  same  authority  from 
which  we  have  already  quoted. 

Other  motives  than  the  natural  and  laudable  one  of 
commemorating  distinguished  botanists  have  sometimes 
influenced  the  bestowal  of  names  upon  plants,  and  satire 
and  irony  have  occasionally  intruded  themselves  into 
the  sanctuary  of  science.  "  Buftbnia  tenuifolia  is  well  - 
known  to  be  a  satire  on  the  slender  botanical  pretensions 
of  the  great  French  zoologist ;  as  the  Hillia  parasitica 
of  Jacquin,  though  perhaps  not  meant,  is  an  equally 
just  one  upon  our  pompous  Sir  John  Hill.  I  mean  not 
to  approve  of  such  satires :  they  stain  the  purity  of  our 
lovely  science.  If  a  botanist  does  not  deserve  comme- 
moration, let  him  sink  peaceably  into  oblivion.  It' 
savours  of  malignity  to  make  his  crown  a  crown  of 
thorns;  and  if  the  application  be  unjust,  it  is  truly 
diabolical."  * 

But  see!  this  Convolvulus  begins  to  shut  up  its 
flowers,  a  sure  indication  of  approaching  rain  ;  and  the 
Calendula  pluvialis,  commonly  called  the  poor  man's 
weather-glass,  has  already  closed  its  petals  in  anticipa- 
tion of  an  April  shower.  These  barometers  of  nature 
are  seldom  mistaken ;  the  big  drops  are  already  falling 
around  us ; — run,  run,  let  us  seek  the  shelter  of  the 
house,  and  at  our  next  walk  we  will  take  the  opposite 
side  of  the  garden,  in  the  hope  of  gleaning  some  re- 
flections from  its  variegated  borders. 


*  Smith's  Introduction  to  Botany,  p.  382. 


62  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 


WALKS  IN  THE  GARDEN. 

II. 

But  are  not  wholesome  airs,  though  unperfumed 

By  roses ;  and  clear  suns,  though  scarcely  felt; 

And  groves,  if  unharinonious,  yet  secure 

From  clamour,  and  whose  very  silence  charms; 

To  be  preferr'd  to  smoke,  to  the  eclipse 

That  metropolitan  volcanoes  make, 

Whose  Stygian  throats  breathe  darkness  all  day  long; 

And  to  the  stir  of  commerce,  driving  slow, 

And  thundering  loud,  with  his  ten  thousand  wheels  ? 

COWPBE. 

IN  our  last  walk,  we  discovered  the  approach  of  rain 
from  the  shutting  up  of  the  Convolvulus,  and  Anagallis 
arvensis,  commonly  called  the  poor  man's  weather-glass ; 
— the  rain  is  now  over;  but  as  the  clouds  have  not  yet 
dispersed,  we  can  derive  no  assistance  from  this  sun-dial 
in  ascertaining  the  time  of  the  day.  However,  we  need 
not  be  at  a  loss ;  this  Helianthus,  or  annual  sunflower, 
is  not  only 

"  True  as  the  dial  to  the  sun, 
Although  it  be  not  shone  upon ;" 

but  enables  us  to  form  some  estimate  of  the  hour,  even 
when  the  great  luminary  is  invisible — an  advantage 
which  we  cannot  obtain  from  the  dial.  See,  its  large 
radiated  disc  already  inclines  westward,  whence  we  may 
be  sure  that  the  afternoon  has  commenced :  it  will  fol- 
low the  setting  sun,  and  at  night,  by  its  natural  elasticity, 
will  again  return  to  the  east,  to  meet  the  morning  sun- 
beams. It  was  thought,  that,  the  heat  of  the  sun,  by 


WALKS    IN    THE    GARDEN.  63 

contracting  the  stem,  occasioned  the  flower  to  incline 
towards  it ;  but  the  sensibility  to  light  seems  to  reside 
in  the  radiated  florets,  as  other  similarly  formed  flowers, 
such  as  several  of  the  Aster  tribe,  the  daisy,  marigold, 
&c.  exhibit  the  same  tendency,  though  not  in  so  striking 
a  manner.  Many  leaves  likewise  follow  the  sun,  of 
which  a  clover-field  affords  a  familiar  instance.  But  the 
flowers  we  have  enumerated,  as  they  resemble  the  sun 
in  their  form,  seem  to  have  a  secret  sympathy  with  its 
beams,  in  absence  of  which  some  will  not  expand  their 
blossoms  at  all ;  while  on  hot  cloudless  days  they  absorb 
such  a  quantity  of  light,  that  they  emit  it  again  in  the 
evening  in  slight  phosphoric  flashes.  These  scintillations 
were  first  observed  to  proceed  from  the  Garden  Nastur- 
tion :  subsequently  M.  Haggren,  of  Sweden,  perceiving 
faint  flashes  repeatedly  darting  from  a  Marigold,  ex- 
tended his  examinations,  and  stated,  as  the  result,  that 
the  following  flowers  emitted  flashes  more  or  less  vivid, 
in  this  order :  the  Marigold ;  Garden  Nasturtion ;  Orange 
Lily  ;  African  Marigold ;  Annual  Sunflower.  Bright 
yellow,  or  flame  colour,  seemed  in  a  general  necessary 
for  the  production  of  the  light,  for  it  was  never  seen  on 
flowers  of  any  other  hue.  It  would  have  been  well  if 
every  plant  possessed  as  appropriate  a  name  as  the 
Helianthus ;  and  if  Ovid,  in  his  notice  of  this  flower, 
had  always  been  equally  fortunate  in  adapting  botanical 
qualities  to  poetical  purposes. 

Nature  has  provided  us  with  various  substitutes  for 
watches  besides  the  Sunflower,  many  others  opening  and 
shutting  their  petals  at  certain  hours  of  the  day, — thus 
constituting  what  Linnaeus  calls  the  horologe,  or  watch 
of  Flora,  lie  enumerates  forty-six  which  possess  this 


64  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

kind  of  sensibility,  dividing  them  into,  1st,  Meteoric 
flowers,  which  expand  sooner  or  later,  according  to  the 
cloudiness,  moisture,  or  pressure  of  the  atmosphere. 
2dly,  Tropical  flowers,  opening  in  the  morning  and 
closing  in  the  evening,  earlier  or  later  as  the  length  of 
the  day  increases  or  diminishes.  3dly,  Equinoctial 
flowers,  which  open  at  a  certain  and  exact  hour  of  the 
day,  and,  for  the  most  part,  close  at  another  determinate 
hour.  We  need  not  give  the  list,  but  can  refer  to  their 
respective  hours  of  rising  and  setting,  if  we  encounter 
any  of  them  in  our  rambles. 

Observe  this  Pear-tree ;  in  its  wild  state  it  has  strong 
thorns,  which  have  entirely  disappeared  from  culture, 
whence  Linnaeus  denominates  such  plants  tamed,  or 
deprived  of  their  natural  ferocity,  as  wild  animals  some- 
times lose  their  horns  by  domestication.  The  analogy 
between  vegetable  and  animal  life  approaches  much 
nearer  than  is  generally  imagined.  Recent  observation 
has  traced  the  progress  of  the  sap,  from  its  first  absorp- 
tion by  the  roots,  through  the  central  vessels  of  the 
plant,  into  the  annual  shoot,  leafstalk,  and  leaf,  whence 
it  is  returned,  and,  descending  through  the  bark,  con- 
tributes to  the  process  of  forming  the  wood :  thus  de- 
scribing a  course,  and  fulfilling  functions,  very  nearly 
correspondent  to  the  circulation  of  the  blood.  There  is 
something  equivalent  to  respiration  through  the  whole 
plant,  the  leaves  principally  performing  the  office  of  the 
lungs  : — it  has  one  series  of  vessels  to  receive  and  convey 
the  alimental  juices,  answering  to  the  arteries,  veins,  &c. 
of  animals ;  and  a  second  set  of  tracheae,  wherein  air  is 
continually  received  and  expelled.  It  absorbs  food 
regularly,  both  from  the  earth  and  the  atmosphere,  con- 


WALKS    IN    THE    GARDEN.  65 

verting  the  most  vitiated  effluvia,  in  the  process  of 
digestion,  into  the  purest  air.  The  vegetable  and  animal 
parts  of  creation  are  thus  a  counterbalance  to  each  other, 
Jhe  noxious  parts  of  the  one  proving  salutary  food  to 
the  other.  From  the  animal  body  certain  effluvia  are 
continually  passing  oft',  which  vitiate  the  air,  and  nothing 
can  be  more  prejudicial  to  animal  life  than  their  accu- 
mulation ;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  nothing  can  be 
more  favourable  to  vegetables  than  these  very  effluvia, 
which  they  accordingly  absorb  with  great  avidity,  and 
convert  into  the  purest  air.  Plants  are  provided  with 
muscles,  by  which  they  open  and  shut  their  flowers, 
turn  their  leaves  to  the  sun,  even  if  they  have  been 
repeatedly  folded  back  from  it,  and  perform  more  com- 
plicated motions,  as  may  be  witnessed  in  the  sensitive 
plants,  the  Dionsea  Muscipula  (or  Fly-trap),  and  many 
others ;  nor  have  calm  and  reflecting  writers  been  want- 
ing who  strenuously  maintain  the  doctrine  of  a  per- 
ceptive power  in  vegetables.  As  Corallines,  Madrepores, 
and  Sponges,  formerly  considered  as  fossil  bodies  or 
maritime  plants,  have  by  subsequent  investigations  been 
raised  to  the  rank  of  animals,  Dr.  Percival  does  not  con- 
sider it  extravagant  to  suppose  that,  at  some  future 
period,  perceptivity  may  be  discovered  to  extend  even 
beyond  the  limits  now  assigned  to  vegetable  life.  *  A 
Hop-plant  turning  round  a  pole  follows  the  course  of  the 
sun,  and  soon  dies  when  forced  into  an  opposite  line  of 
motion  ;  but  remove  the  obstacle,  and  the  plant  quickly 
returns  to  its  former  position.  When  the  straight 
branches  of  a  Honeysuckle  can  no  longer  support  them- 

*  Manchester  Transactions,  Vol.  II. 


GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 


selves,  they  strenghten  themselves  by  becoming  spiral : 
when  they  meet  with  other  branches  of  the  same  kind, 
they  coalesce  for  mutual  support,  and  one  spiral  turns 
to  the  right,  one  to  the  left ;  thus  increasing  the  prob^ 
ability  of  their  finding  support  by  the  diversity  of  their 
course.  Lord  Kames  relates,  that  among  the  ruins  of 
New  Abbey,  in  Galloway,  "  there  grows  on  the  top  of  a 
wall  a  plane-tree  twenty  feet  high.  Straitened  for 
nourishment,  it  several  years  ago  directed  roots  down  the 
side  of  the  wall,  till  they  reached  the  ground,  ten  feet 
below :  and  now  the  nourishment  it  afforded  to  those 
roots,  during  the  time  of  descending,  is  amply  repaid, 
having  every  year  since  that  time  made  vigorous  shoots." 
— If  a  plant  be  placed  in  a  room  which  has  no  light 
except  from  a  hole  in  the  wall,  it  will  shoot  towards  the 
hole,  pass  through  it  into  the  open  air,  and  then  vegetate 
upwards  in  its  natural  direction.  Even  in  the  profoundest 
calm,  the  leaves  of  the  Hedysarum  gyrans  are  in  per- 
petual spontaneous  motion ;  some  rising,  and  others 
falling,  and  others  whirling  circularly  by  twisting  their 
stems.  From  these  and  other  evidences  of  spontaneity, 
Dr.  Percival  infers  that  vegetables  have  a  limited  degree 
of  sensation  and  enjoyment;  that  they  have  an  inferior 
participation  in  the  common  allotment  of  vitality  ;  and 
thus  that  our  great  Creator  hath  apportioned  good  to 
all  things,  "in  number,  weight  and  measure." 

Leaving  these  physiological  researches  to  those  who 
are  more  competent  to  discuss  them,  let  us  resume  our 
desultory  notices  as  we  sit  beneath  this  Laburnum  ;  and, 
as  we  cannot  record  many  poetical  phrases  of  the  Dutch, 
let  us  not  omit  to  mention  that  they  call  this  tree,  with 
not  less  fancy  than  propriety,  the  Golden  Rain.  Was 


WALKS    IN    THE    GARDEN.  67 

it  from  one  of  these  trees  that  Jupiter  climbed  to  the 
window  of  the  brazen  tower  in  which  Danae  was  con- 
fined, and  thus  gave  rise  to  the  fable  of  his  visiting  her 
in  a  golden  shower  ? — Fix  your  eyes  steadfastly  upon 
the  cup  of  this  Narcissus  growing  at  our  feet,  and  by 
suffering  your  imagination  to  wave  its  magic  wand,  you 
will  see,  slowly  rising  from  its  petals,  and  expanding 
into  manhood,  the  beautiful  youth  who,  in  the  early 
ages  of  the  world,  sat  beside  the  Boeotian  fountain,  and 
wooed  the  reflection  of  his  own  face,  mistaking  it  for 
the  Naiad  of  the  waters,  until  his  heart  and  the  delusion 
were  both  broken  together.  Methinks  I  see  the  astonished 
and  awe-struck  countenances  of  the  nymphs,  when,  on 
proceeding  to  take  up  his  body  that  it  might  be  placed 
on  the  funeral  pile,  they  saw  nothing  but  a  beautiful 
flower,  around  which  they  knelt  in  silent  reverence. 
What  is  it  that  brings  the  bees  buzzing  around  us  so 
busily  ?  See,  it  is  this  tuft  of  Coltsfoot  which  they  ap- 
proach with  a  harmonious  chorus,  somewhat  like  the 
"Nan  nobis,  Domine"  of  our  singers;  and,  after  par- 
taking silently  of  the  luxurious  banquet,  again  set  up 
their  tuneful  paeans.  Honey  is  of  no  other  use  to  plants 
than  to  tempt  insects,  who,  in  procuring  it,  fertilize  the 
flower  by  disturbing  the  dust  of  the  stamens,  and  even 
carry  that  substance  from  the  barren  to  the  fertile 
blossoms.  Observe  what  a  quantity  of  this  yellow 
matorial  is  collected  on  the  legs  and  thighs  of  the  little 
pilferers  ;  who,  as  they  carry  it  home  for  the  construc- 
tion of  their  combs,  settle  upon  a  thousand  different 
flowers,  and  assist  the  great  purpose  of  vegetable  repro- 
duction, while  they  are  providing  a  receptacle  for  their 
own.  Lavender  and  Rosemary  afford  a  wax  already 


68  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

prepared,  as  may  be  easily  perceived  on  a  close  inspec- 
tion of  the  leaf,  and  on  this  account  are  particularly  ac- 
ceptable to  these  winged  marauders.  It  has  been  held 
a  gross  libel  upon  animals  to  say,  that  a  man  has  made 
a  beast  of  himself  when  he  has  drunk  to  such  ex*  •> 
to  lose  his  reason ;  but  we  might  without  injustice  say, 
that  he  has  made  a  humble-bee  of  himself,  for  those 
little  debauchees  are  particularly  prone  to  intoxication. 
Round  the  nectaries  of  Hollyhocks  you  will  generally 
observe  a  set  of  determined  topers  quaffing  as  per- 
tinaciously as  if  they  belonged  to  Wilkes's  Club ;  and 
round  about  the  flower  (to  follow  up  the  simile)  several 
of  the  bon-vivants  will  be  found  lying  on  the  ground, 
inebriated,  and  insensible.  Honey  is  found  in  Aloes, 
Colocynthis,  and  other  bitter  flowers,  as  constantly  as  in 
Cowslips,  Foxglove,  and  Honeysuckle ;  and  the  assertion 
of  Strabo,  that  a  sort  was  produced  in  Pontus  which 
was  a  strong  poison,  owing  to  the  bees  having  fed  on 
Aconite  and  Hemlock,  is  not  credited.  Besides  the 
flowers  we  have  mentioned,  bees  are  particularly  fond  of 
the  Lime-tree,  Privet,  and  Phillyrea  ;  but  the  cultivation 
of  these  useful  insects  is  now  nearly  neglected.  Mead 
was  the  nectar  of  the  Scandinavian  nations,  which  they 
quaffed  in  heaven  out  of  the  sculls  of  their  enemies  :  we 
may,  therefore,  conclude  that  its  use  was  not  forgotten 
upon  earth,  and  that  the  honey  whence  it  was  prepared 
must  have  been  produced  in  amazing  quantities  to 
supply  those  thirsty  tribes.  In  fact,  it  continued  the 
prevailing  beverage  of  the  common  people  in  the  north 
of  Europe  until  very  modern  times,  when  it  was  super- 
seded by  malt  liquors,  and  the  bees  were  abandoned  to 
the  wastes  and  wilds.  There  is  hardly  bees-wax  enough 


WALKS    IN    THE    GARDEN.  09 

produced  in  England  to  answer  the  demand  for  lip-salve 
alone ;  but  importation  from  America  supplies  all  our 
wants,  for  the  quantity  obtained  in  that  country  is 
annually  increasing.  A  few  years  ago  the  hum  of  a 
bee  had  never  been  heard  on  the  western  side  of  the 
Allegany  mountains  :  a  violent  hurricane  carried  several 
swarms  over  that  lofty  ridge,  and  finding  a  new  unex- 
hausted country,  singularly  favourable  to  their  propa- 
gation, they  have  multiplied,  until  the  whole  of  those 
boundless  savannahs  and  plains  have  been  colonized  by 
these  indefatigable  emigrants.  Little  thinks  the  ball- 
room beauty,  when  the  tapers  are  almost  burnt  out, 
that  the  wax  by  whose  light  her  charms  have  been 
exalted  was  once  hidden  in  the  bells  and  cups  of  in- 
numerable flowers,  shedding  perfume  over  the  silent 
valleys  of  the  Susquehanna,  or  nodding  at  their  own 
reflected  colours  in  the  waters  of  the  Potomac  and 
Delaware. 

Intoxication  is  not  confined  to  the  humble-bee,  for 
yonder  is  one  of  the  common  sort,  whom  I  have  been 
watching  within  the  calyx  of  that  flower,  where  he 
seems  to  be  motionless  and  insensible.  Look  again,  my 
friend,  and  you  will  find  your  eyes  have  deceived  you. 
That  is  the  Ophrys,  commonly  called  the  Bee-orchis, 
which  grows  wild  in  many  parts  of  England,  and  whose 
nectary  and  petals  closely  resemble,  in  form  and  colour, 
the  insect  whence  it  takes  its  name.  By  this  contrivance 
the  flowers  have  the  appearance  of  being  pre-occupied, 
and  often  escape  those  hourly  robbers  ;  or  would  it  be 
too  visionary  to  imagine  that  the  bee  first  appeared  in 
this  vegetable  state,  detached  itself  in  process  of  time 
from  its  parent  plant,  and  acquired  its  present  vitality  ? 


70  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

There  is  a  Fly-orchis  also,  as  well  as  a  Spider-orchis, 
which  may  have  undergone  similar  changes.  "  A  fanci- 
ful naturalist,  who  had  studied  this  subject,  thought  it 
not  impossible  that  the  first  insects  were  the  anthers  and 
stigmas  of  flowers,  which  had  by  some  means  loosened 
themselves,  like  the  male  flowers  of  Vallisneria,  and 
that  other  insects,  in  process  of  time,  had  been  formed 
from  these ;  some  acquiring  wings,  others  fins,  and 
others  claws,  from  their  ceaseless  efforts  to  procure  food, 
or  secure  themselves  from  injury."* 

I  see,  by  the  expression  of  your  countenance,  that 
you  hesitate  to  ask  the  name  of  the  humble  plant  upon 
which  your  eyes  are  fixed,  doubting  whether  it  be  a 
flower  or  a  weed.  For  my  part,  I  know  not  which  are 
the  most  beautiful — the  wild  flowers,  or  those  that  are 
cultivated ;  but  the  little  tuft  on  which  you  are  gazing 
is  the  pretty  weed  called  "  Forget-me-not." 

A  poet  has  seldom  anything  to  bestow  but  the  pro- 
ductions of  his  Muse,  although  she  be  often  as  poor  as 
himself,  as  the  reader  will  readily  admit  when  he  peruses 
the  following  return  for  a  present  of  this  plant : — 

Thanks,  Mira,  for  the  plant  you  sent : — 

My  garden  whensoe'er  I  enter, 
'Twill  serve  at  once  for  ornament 

And  for  a  vegetable  Mentor. — 
If  Duty's  voice  be  heard  with  scorning, 

Or  absent  friends  be  all  forgot^ 
Each  bud  will  cry,  in  tones  of  warning, 

"Forget  me  not! — Forget  me  not!" 

A  nobler  theme  its  flowers  of  blue 
Inculcate  on  the  thoughtful  gazer, 

*  Dr.  Darwin's  "  Origin  of  Society,"  canto  2. 


WALKS    IN    THE    GARDEN.  7l 

That  the  same  hand  which  gave  their  hue 

Painted  yon  glorious  arch  of  azure. 
Yes — He  whose  voice  is  in  the  thunder 

Planted  this  weed  beside  the  cot, 
And  whispers  through  its  lips  of  wonder, 

"Forget  me  not! — Forget  me  not!" 

A  poor  return  your  gift  insures, 

When  paid  in  this  poetic  greeting ; — 
The  flowers  which  I  exchange  for  yours 

Are  less  delightful,  quite  as  fleeting. — 
Yet  when  the  earth  my  bones  shall  cover, 

Some  few  may  live  to  mark  the  spot, 
And  sigh,  to  those  that  round  it  hover, 

"Forget  me  not! — Forget  me  not!" 


WALKS  IN  THE  GARDEN. 

in. 

"The  life  and  felicity  of  an  excellent  gardener  is  preferable  to  all  other 
diversions." 

EVELYN. 

"  "What  could  I  wish  that  I  possess  not  here  ? 
Health,  leisure,  means  to  improve  it,  friendship,  peace, 
No  loose  or  wanton,  though  a  wandering  Muse, 
And  constant  occupation  without  care." 

To  me  the  branches  of  the  trees  always  appear  to  stretch 
themselves  out  and  droop  their  leaves  with  an  obvious 
sense  of  enjoyment,  while  they  are  fed  by  the  renovating 
moisture  of  a  shower.  I  have  been  complacently  watch- 
ing my  shrubs  and  plants  during  this  repast;  but  the 
rain  is  now  over,  they  have  finished  their  meal,  and  as 
they  have  already  begun  with  fresh  spirits  to  dance  in 


72  GAIETIES    AND    GRAY  ITI KS. 

the  breeze  and  glitter  in  the  sunshine,  let  us  sally  forth 
to  share  their  festivity.  What  a  delicious  fragrance 
gushes  from  the  freshened  grass  and  borders !  It  is  the 
incense  which  the  grateful  earth  throws  up  to  heaven  in 
return  for  its  fertilising  waters.  Behold  !  here  is  one  of 
the  many  objects  which  the  shower  has  accomplished  : 
by  moistening  the  wings  of  the  flying  Dandelion,  it  has 
conveyed  it  to  the  earth  at  the  very  moment  when  it 
was  best  adapted  for  the  reception  of  its  seed.  "  The 
various  modes  by  which  seeds  are  dispersed,  cannot  fail 
to  strike  an  observing  mind  with  admiration.  Who  has 
not  listened  in  a  calm  and  sunny  day  to  the  crackling 
of  furze  bushes,  caused  by  the  explosion  of  their  little 
elastic  pods  ;  or  watched  the  down  of  innumerable  seeds 
floating  on  the  summer  breeze,  till  they  are  overtaken 
by  a  shower,  which,  moistening  their  wings,  stops  their 
further  flight,  and  at  the  same  time  accomplishes  its 
final  object,  by  immediately  promoting  the  germination 
of  each  seed  in  the  moist  earth  ?  How  little  are  children 
aware,  as  they  blow  away  the  seeds  of  Dandelion,  or 
stick  burs  in  sport  upon  each  other's  clothes,  that  they 
are  fulfilling  one  of  the  great  ends  of  nature!"*  The 
various  mechanism  and  contrivances  for  the  dissemina- 
tion of  plants  and  flowers  are  almost  inexhaustible. 
Some  seeds  are  provided  with  a  plume  like  a  shuttlecock, 
which,  rendering  them  buoyant,  enables  them  to  fly 
over  lakes  and  deserts ;  in  which  manner  they  have 
been  known  to  travel  fifty  miles  from  their  native  spot. 
Others  are  dispersed  by  animals  ;  some  attaching  them- 
selves to  their  hair  or  feathers  by  a  gluten,  as  Misletoe ; 

*  Smith's  Introduction  to  Botany,  p.  302. 


WALKS    IN    THE    GARDEN.  73 

others  by  hooks,  as  Burdock  and  Hounds-tongue ;  and 
others  are  swallowed  whole,  for  the  sake  of  the  fruit,  and 
voided  uninjured,  as  the  Hawthorn,  Juniper,  and  some 
grasses.  Other  seeds  again  disperse  themselves  by 
means  of  an  elastic  seed-vessel,  as  Oats  and  Geranium; 
and  the  seeds  of  aquatic  plants,  and  those  which  grow 
on  the  banks  of  rivers,  are  carried  many  miles  by  the 
currents  into  which  they  fall.  The  seeds  of  Tillandsia,* 
which  grows  on  the  branches  of  trees  like  Misletoe,  are 
furnished  with  many  long  threads  on  their  crowns, 
which,  as  they  are  driven  forwards  by  the  winds,  wrap 
round  the  arms  of  trees,  and  thus  hold  them  fast  till 
they  vegetate.  When  the  seeds  of  the  Cyclamen  are 
ripe,  the  flower-stalk  gradually  twists  itself  spirally 
downwards  till  it  touches  the  ground,  and  forcibly 
penetrating  the  earth,  lodges  its  seeds,  which  are  thought 
to  receive  nourishment  from  the  parent  root,  as  they  are 
said  not  to  be  made  to  grow  in  any  other  situation. 
The  subterraneous  Trefoil  has  recourse  to  a  similar  ex- 
pedient, which  however  may  be  only  an  attempt  to 
conceal  its  seeds  from  the  ravages  of  birds ;  while  the 
Trifolium  globosum  adopts  a  still  more  singular  con- 
trivance :  its  lower  florets  only  have  corols,  and  are  fer- 
tile ;  the  upper  ones  wither  into  a  kind  of  wool,  and, 
forming  a  head,  completely  conceal  the  fertile  calyxes. 
But  the  most  curious  arrangement  for  vegetable  loco- 
motion is  to  be  found  in  the  awn  or  beard  of  Barley, 
which,  like  the  teeth  of  a  saw,  are  all  turned  towards 
one  end  of  it :  as  this  long  awn  lies  upon  the  ground,  it 
extends  itself  in  the  moist  air  of  night,  and  pushes  for- 

*  Darwin's  Loves  of  the  Plants,  canto  1. 
4 


74  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

ward  the  barley-corn  which  it  adheres  to ;  in  the  day  it 
shortens  as  it  dries,  and  as  these  points  prevent  it  from 
receding,  it  draws  up  its  pointed  end,  and  thus,  creeping 
like  a  worm,  will  travel  many  feet  from  its  parent  stem. 
The  late  Mr.  Edgeworth  constructed  a  wooden  creeping 
hygrometer  upon  this  principle,  which  expanding  in 
moist  weather,  and  contracting  itself  when  it  was  dry, 
in  a  month  or  two  walked  across  the  room  which  it  in- 
habited. 

If  Nature  have  been  thus  ingenious  in  providing  for 
the  dispersion  of  seeds,  she  has  not  been  less  provident 
in  her  arrangements  for  procuring  a  prolific  and  inex- 
haustible supply.  Her  great  leading  principle  seems  to 
be  eternal  destruction  and  reproduction,  which  one  of 
our  essayists  tells  us  may  be  simplified  into  the  following 
-concise  order  to  all  her  children,  "  Eat  and  be  eaten." 
She  has  been  not  less  prodigal  in  the  seeds  of  plants 
than  in  the  spawn  of  fish ;  as  almost  any  one  plant,  if 
all  its  seeds  should  grow  to  maturity,  would  in  a  few 
years  alone  people  the  terrestrial  globe.  The  seeds  of 
one  Sunflower  amount  to  4000 ;  Poppy  has  32,000. 
Mr.  Ray  asserts  that  1012  seeds  of  Tobacco  weighed 
only  one  grain,  and  that  thus  calculate  1,  they  amounted 
in  one  plant  to  360,000  ;  and  he  supposes  the  seeds  of 
the  Ferns  to  exceed  a  million  on  a  leaf!  Nor  does  this 
exuberance  seem  necessary  to  counteract  their  small 
tenacity  of  life ;  for,  on  the  contrary,  the  vital  principle 
in  seeds  is  generally  preserved  with  a  remarkable  vigour. 
Great  degrees  of  heat,  short  of  boiling,  do  not  impair 
ther  vegetative  power,  nor  do  we  know  any  degree  of 
cold  which  has  such  an  effect.  They  may  be  sent  round 
the  world,  exposed  to  every  variety  of  climate,  without 


WALKS    IN    THE    GARDEN.  75 

injury;  and  even  when  buried  for  ages  deep  in  the 
ground,  they  retain  their  vitality,  although  they  will  not 
germinate,  apparently  from  the  want  of  some  action  of 
the  air,  as  it  has  been  ascertained  by  repeated  experi- 
ments that  seeds  planted  in  the  exhausted  receiver  of  an 
air-pump  will  not  vegetate.  The  earth  thrown  up  from 
the  deepest  wells,  although  all  possible  access  of  fresh 
seeds  be  carefully  excluded,  will,  upon  exposure  to  the 
air,  shoot  forth  weeds,  grasses,  and  wild  flowers,  whose 
seeds  must  have  lain  dormant  for  many  centuries ;  and 
it  is  very  common,  upon  digging  deeper  than  usual  in 
gardeners'  grounds,  to  recover  varieties  of  flowers  which 
had  long  been  lost. 

Observe  in  this  beautiful  double  Dahlia  how  highly 
nature  may  be  improved,  all  double  flowers  being  pro- 
duced by  cultivation,  although  their  reproductive  powers 
are  frequently  lost  in  the  process ;  whence  they  have 
been  termed  by  botanists  vegetable  monsters.  This 
operation  is  effected  in  various  ways  :  in  some  the  petals 
are  multiplied  three  or  four  times,  without  excluding  the 
stamens,  whence  they  are  able  to  produce  seeds,  as  in 
Campanula  and  Stramonium ;  but  in  others  the  petals 
become  so  numerous,  as  totally  to  exclude  the  stamens, 
and  these  are,  of  course,  unproductive.  In  some,  the 
nectaries  are  sacrificed  for  the  formation  of  petals,  as  in 
Larkspur ;  while  in  others,  the  nectaries  are  multiplied 
to  the  exclusion  of  the  petals,  as  in  Colombine. 

"Who  loves  a  garden,  loves  a  greenhouse  too," 

sings  Cowper;  and  ours,  humble  as  it  is,  may  afford 
us  some  instruction,  as  we  sit  and  contemplate  its  ever- 


76 


GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 


green  inhabitants,  filling  their  little  amphitheatre  in  due 
succession  of  rank  and  dignity. 

-"Foreigners  from  many  lands, 


They  form  one  social  shade,  as  if  convened 
By  magic  summons  of  the  Orphean  lyre." 

These  Vine-leaves,  which  were  suspended  yesterday  by 
a  thread  with  their  under-surfaces  turned  towards  the 
windows,  have  already  recovered  their  natural  position, 
although  detached  from  the  stem  ;  whence  we  not  only 
learn  that  light  acts  beneficially  upon  the  upper  surface 
and  injuriously  upon  the  under  side  of  leaves,  but  we 
have  proof  that  the  turning  is  effected  by  an  impression 
made  upon  the  leaf  itself,  and  not  upon  the  foot-stalk. 
Fruit-trees  on  the  opposite  sides  of  a  wall  invariably 
turn  their  leaves  from  the  wall  in  search  of  light,  which 
seems  to  have  a  positive  attraction  for  them,  exclusive 
of  any  accompanying  warmth  ;  for  plants  in  a  hot-house 
present  the  fronts  of  their  leaves,  and  even  incline  their 
branches  to  the  quarter  where  there  is  most  light,  not 
to  that  where  most  air  is  admitted,  nor  to  the  flue  in 
search  of  heat.  Light  gives  the  green  colour  to  leaves  ; 
for  plants  raised  in  darkness  are  of  a  sickly  white,  of 
which  the  common  practice  of  blanching  Celery  in 
gardens,  by  covering  it  up  with  earth,  is  a  proof  under 
every  one's  observation.  By  experiments  made  with 
coloured  glasses,  through  which  light  was  admitted,  it 
appears  that  plants  become  paler  in  proportion  as  the 
glass  approaches  nearer  to  violet. 

This  annual  Mesembryanthemum  would  have  af- 
forded us  another  illustration  of  the  extraordinary  pro- 
visions of  Nature  for  the  dispersion  of  seed.  It  is  a 


WALKS    IN    THE    GARDEN.  77 

native  of  the  sandy  deserts  of  Africa,  and  its  seed-vessels 
only  open  in  rainy  weather,  otherwise  the  seeds  in  that 
country  might  lie  long  exposed  before  they  met  with 
sufficient  moisture  to  vegetate.  Succulent  plants,  which 
possess  more  moisture  in  proportion  as  the  soil  which 
they  are  destined  to  inhabit  is  parched  and  sunny, 
attain  that  apparently  contradictory  quality  by  the  great 
facility  with  which  they  imbibe,  and  their  being  almost 
totally  free  from  perspiration,  which  in  plants  of  other 
latitudes  is  sometimes  excessive.  According  to  Dr. 

o 

Hales,  the  large  annual  Sunflower  perspires  about  seven- 
teen times  as  fast  as  the  ordinary  insensible  perspiration 
of  the  human  skin  ;  and  the  quantity  of  fluid  which  eva- 
porates from  the  leaves  of  the  Cornelian  Cherry  in  the 
course  of  twenty-four  hours,  is  said  to  be  nearly  equal 
to  twice  the  weight  of  the  whole  shrub.  Sometimes, 
from  a  sudden  condensation  of  their  insensible  evapora- 
tion, drops  of  clear  water  will,  even  in  England,  in  hot 
calm  weather,  fall  from  groves  of  Poplar  or  Willow, 
like  a  slight  shower  of  rain.  Ovid  has  made  a  poetical 
use  of  this  exudation  from  Lombardy  Poplars,  which  he 
supposes  to  be  the  tears  of  Phaeton's  sisters,  who  were 
transformed  into  those  trees. 

How  utterly  vain  and  insignificant  appear  all  the 
alembics  and  laboratories  of  chemists  and  experimental 
philosophers,  when  compared  with  the  innumerable, 
exquisite,  and  unfathomable  processes  which  Nature, 
in  silence  and  without  effort,  is  at  this  instant  elaborat- 
ing within  the  precints  of  our  little  garden !  From  the 
same  mysterious  earth,  planted  in  the  same  pot,  her  in- 
scrutable powers  will  not  only  concoct  various  flowers 
utterly  dissimilar  in  form,  odour,  colours,  and  proper- 


78  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

ties, — some  perhaps  containing  a  deadly  poison,  others 
a  salutary  medicine ;  but  she  will  even  sometimes  com- 
bine all  these  discordant  secretions  in  the  same  plant. 
The  gum  of  the  Peach-tree,  for  instance,  is  mild  and 
mucilaginous.  The  bark,  leaves,  and  flowers,  abound 
with  a  bitter  secretion  of  a  purgative  and  rather  danger- 
ous quality.  The  fruit  is  replete  not  only  with  acid, 
mucilage,  and  sugar,  but  with  its  own  peculiar  aromatic 
and  highly  volatile  secretion,  elaborated  within  itself, 
on  which  its  fine  flavour  depends.  How  far  are  we  still 
from  understanding  the  whole  anatomy  of  the  vegeta- 
ble body,  which  can  create  and  keep  separate  such  dis- 
tinct and  discordant  substances  !  *  Iron  has  been  de- 
tected in  roses,  and  is  supposed  to  be  largely  produced 
by  vegetable  decomposition,  from  the  chalybeate  qual- 
ity and  ochrous  deposit  of  waters  flowing  from  morass- 
es ;  and  it  is  well  ascertained  that  pure  flint  is  secreted 
in  the  hollow  stem  of  the  Bamboo,  in  the  cuticle  of  va- 
rious grasses,  in  the  cane,  and  in  the  rough  Horsetail, 
in  which  latter  it  is  very  copious,  and  so  disposed  as  to 
make  a  natural  file,  for  which  purpose  it  is  used  in  our 
manufactures.  What  a  contrast,  exclaims  the  same  in- 
genious botanist,  to  whom  we  have  been  so  largely  in- 
debted, between  this  secretion  of  the  tender  vegetable 
frame,  and  those  exhalations  which  constitute  the  per- 
fume of  flowers  !  One  is  among  the  most  permanent 
substances  in  nature — an  ingredient  in  the  primaeval 
mountains  of  the  globe ;  the  other,  the  invisible,  intan- 
gible breath  of  a  moment ! 

Among  the  innumerable  advantages  to  be  derived 

*  Smith's  Introduction  to  Botany. 


WALKS    IN    THE    GARDEN.  79 

from  a  knowledge  of  botany,  however  slight,  may  be 
mentioned  the  perpetual  amusement  which  it  affords 
in  scenes  which  to  others  might  be  only  productive  of 
ennui  ;  the  impressions  of  pure  natural  religion  which 
it  awakens,  and  the  lofty  and  ennobling  sentiments  by 
which  they  are  invariably  associated.  Nor  do  we  need 
for  this  purpose  the  garden's  artificial  embellishments, 
as  the  same  sensations  may  be  excited,  even  in  a  more 
striking  degree,  amid  the  most  desolate  scenes. 

Nature  in  every  form  is  lovely  still. 

I  can  admire  to  ecstasy,  although 

I  be  not  bower' d  in  a  rustling  grove, 

Tracing  through  flowery  tufts  some  twinkling  rill, 

Or  perch' d  upon  a  green  and  sunny  hill, 

Gazing  upon  the  sylvanry  below, 

And  harking  to  the  warbling  beaks  above. — 

To  me  the  wilderness  of  thorns  and  brambles 

Beneath  whose  weeds  the  muddy  runnel  scrambles — 

The  bald,  burnt  moor — the  marsh's  sedgy  shallows, 

Where  docks,  bullrushes,  watefflags,  and  mallows, 

Choke  the  rank  waste,  alike  can  yield  delight. 

A  blade  of  silver  hair-grass  nodding  slowly 

In  the  soft  wind, — the  thistle's  purple  crown, 

The  ferns,  the  rushes  tall,  and  mosses  lowly, 

A  thorn,  a  weed,  an  insect,  or  a  stone, 

Can  thrill  me  with  sensations  exquisite, — 

For  all  are  requisite,  and  every  part 

Points  to  the  mighty  hand  that  fashioned  it. 

Then  as  I  look  aloft  with  yearning  heart, 

The  trees  and  mountains,  like  conductors,  raise 

My  spirit  upward  on  its  flight  sublime ; 

And  clouds,  and  sun,  and  heaven's  marmorean  floor, 

Are  but  the  stepping-stones  by  which  I  climb 

Up  to  the  dread  Invisible,  to  pour 

My  grateful  feelings  out  in  silent  praise. 


80  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

When  the  soul  shakes  her  wings,  how  soon  we  fly 
From  earth  to  th'  empyrean  heights,  and  tie 
The  Thunderer  to  the  tendril  of  a  weed. 


WALKS  IN  THE  GARDEN. 

IV. 

My  garden  takes  up  half  my  daily  care, 
And  my  field  asks  the  minutes  I  can  spare. 

HARTE. 

IT  was  said  of  Burke,  that  no  one  could  stand  un- 
der the  same  gateway  with  him,  during  a  shower  of 
rain,  without  discovering  that  he  was  an  extraordinary 
man, — a  very  consolatory  assertion  to  the  inhabitants 
of  London,  who  were  not,  perhaps,  previously  aware 
that  any  discovery  could  be  made  or  pleasant  associa- 
tion awakened  during  that  most  irksome  period,  when 
they  are  huddled  with  strange  companions  under  the 
shelter  of  a  low  arch,  gazing  listlessly  at  the  rushing 
and  wrangling  kennel,  or  walking  to  the  back  of  the 
covered  way  to  exchange  weeping  looks  with  the  sky. 
In  that  ten  minutes  of  London's  suspended  animation, 
all  is  desolation  and  gloom ;  the  deserted  street  is  a 
wide  waste  of  bubbles  and  mud ;  from  the  unimbibing 
flag-stones  the  discoloured  drops  scramble  into  the  gut- 
ter to  disembogue  themselves  into  a  feculent  and  sterco- 
raceous  receptacle,  whither  the  imagination  refuses  to 
follow  them  : — now  and  then  the  loud  pattering  on  an 
umbrella  announces  the  approach  of  some  sturdy  pedes- 
trian who  hurries  by,  and  the  cheerless  prospect  is  again 


WALKS    IN    THE    GARDEN.  81 

confined  to  mud  and  stones,  until  a  hackney-coach  rat- 
tles past  with  its  lame  and  dripping  cattle,  while  the 
flap-hatted  driver  holds  his  head  on  one  side  to  avoid 
the  pelting  of  the  storm,  utterly  indifferent  to  the  up- 
held fingers  of  the  shop-and-alley-imprisoned  women, 
or  the  impatient  calls  of  appointment-breaking  men ; 
signals  to  which,  but  half  an  hour  before,  he  would 
have  been  all  eye,  all  ear.  No  delectable  associations, 
either  natural  or  literary,  spring  up  to  alleviate  the  te- 
dium of  such  a  detention  as  we  have  been  describing ; 
for  even  the  recollection  of  Swift's  imitative  description 
of  a  city-shower  will  but  aggravate  the  annoyances  of 
our  situation,  by  the  fidelity  with  which  he  has  por- 
trayed the  scene.  How  different  the  effect  of  a  shower 
in  the  country !  We  have  already  noticed  the  air  of 
enjoyment  with  which  the  trees  droop  down  their 
branches  to  be  fed,  and  the  silent  satisfaction  with  which 
the  thirsty  earth  drinks  in  the  refreshing  moisture ;  but 
there  is  scarcely  a  drop  of  rain  which  we  may  not  mor- 
alize into  as  many  conceits  as  Jaques  summoned  up 
from  the  tears  of  the  poor  wounded  stag.  Are  we  in 
a  puerile  mood,  we  may  forthwith  realize  that  most  pal- 
pable conception  of  Mother  Bunch,  by  which  our  youth- 
ful imaginations  have  been  so  often  raised  to  ecstasy,  (is 
it  not  the  tale  of  Prince  Florizel  ?)  wherein  the  discrimi- 
nating fairy  rewards  her  obedient  children,  by  summon- 
ing from  the  air  a  shower  of  tarts  and  cheesecakes — a 
prodigy  which  we  can  thus  easily  accomplish  with  the 
wand  of  fancy.  The  limpid  drops  destined  to  feed  the 
corn  whence  the  flour  is  obtained,  and  expand  the  pulp 
of  the  currant,  raspberry,  or  gooseberry,  which  is  to  be 
enshrined  in  its  paste,  are  clearly  the  primal  though  un- 


82  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

concocted  elements  of  the  feast  which  Mrs.  Bunch 
(away  with  the  disrespectful  term  Mother  /)  perfected 
amid  the  magical  ovens  of  the  sky,  and  showered  down 
into  the  upturned  mouths  of  her  infantine  worshippers. 
Every  shower  of  rain  is,  in  fact,  a  new  supply  from  the 
great  ante-natal  infinite  of  pastry. 

Are  we  poetically  inclined  in  our  combinations,  there 
is  not  a  drop  from  which  imagination  may  not  extract 
beauty  and  melody,  by  pursuing  it  into  the  labyrinth 
of  some  "  bosky  dell "  or  dark  umbrageous  nook,  only 
lighted  up  by  the  yellow  eyes  of  the  primrose ;  or  we 
may  convert  it  into  a  little  crystal  bark,  suffering  our 
fancies  to  float  upon  it  adown  some  gurgling  rivulet, 
under  a  canopy  of  boughs,  and  between  banks  of  flow- 
ers, nodding,  like  Narcissus,  at  their  own  image  in  the 
water,  and  so  sailing  along  in  the  moonlight  to  the  ac- 
companiment of  its  own  music,  we  may  realize  Cole- 
ridge's 

"  Hidden  brook 
In  the  leafy  month  of  June, 
That  to  the  sleeping  woods  all  night 
Singeth  a  quiet  tune." 

By  patience  and  perseverance  the  leaf  of  the  mul- 
berry-tree becomes  satin;  the  rain  which  we  shake 
from  our  feet  may  be  metamorphosed  into  that  leaf,  and 
ultimately  revisit  them  in  the  form  of  silk  stockings. 
By  anticipating  the  silent  elaborations  of  Nature,  and 
following  up  her  processes,  we  may  substantiate  the 
dreams  of  those  poets  and  Oriental  writers  who  tell  of 
roses,  jonquils,  and  violets,  foiling  from  the  sky,  for  al- 
most every  one  of  the  globules  of  rain  may  be  a  future 


WALKS    IN    THE    GARDEN.  83 

flower.  Absorbed  by  the  thirsty  roots,  it  may  be  con- 
verted into  sap,  and,  working  its  way  into  the  flower- 
stalk,  may,  in  process  of  time,  assume  the  form  of  pe- 
tals, turning  their  fragrant  lips  upwards  to  bless  the  sky 
whence  they  originally  descended.  Or,  are  we  disposed 
to  contemplate  the  shower  with  a  more  exalted  antici- 
pation, we  have  but  to  recollect  that  all  flesh  is  grass, 
and  the  inevitable  converse  of  the  proposition,  that  all 
grass  is  destined  to  become  flesh,  either  animal  or  human, 
and  straightway  the  rain  becomes  instinct  with  vital- 
ity, and  we  may  follow  each  drop  through  its  vegetable 
existence  as  pasture  into  the  ribs  of  some  future  prize- 
ox  ;  or  into  the  sparkling  eye  of  its  proprietor,  some 
unborn  Mr.  Coke  or  Lord  Somerville,  standing  proudly 
by  its  side ;  or  into  the  heart  of  a  Milton,  the  blood  of 
a  Hampden,  or  the  brain  of  a  Bacon.  Thus  in  a  passing 
shower  may  we  unconsciously  be  pelted  with  the  com- 
ponent parts  of  bulls  and  sheep,  poets,  patriots,  and 
philosophers — a  fantastical  speculation  perhaps,  but  it 
is  better  than  shivering  at  the  end  of  an  alley  in  Hoi- 
born  without  thinking  of  anything,  or  flattening  one's 
nose  against  the  pane  of  a  coffee-house  window  in  splen- 
etic vacancy. 

Having  mentioned  the  name  of  Bacon,  let  us  not 
omit  to  record  his  assertion,  that  "  when  ages  grow  to 
civility  and  elegancy,  men  come  to  build  stately,  sooner 
than  to  garden  finely  ;  as  if  gardening  were  the  great- 
er perfection ;"  a  remark  no  less  honourable  to  the 
noble  science  of  horticulture,  than  historically  accordant 
with  fact.  Our  own  pre-eminence  at  the  present  mo- 
ment may  be  adduced  in  confirmation ;  and  it  is  no 
slight  evidence  of  advancing  civilization  in  China,  that 


84  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

they  have  become  not  less  enthusiastic  than  expert  in 
the  cultivation  of  flowers.  Scarce  European  plants  com- 
mand higher  pi-ices  at  Pekin  than  could  be  obtained 
for  any  Chinese  production  in  London.  But  we  have 
rambled  and  preluded  till  the  shower  is  over,  and  \ve 
may  now  again  venture  out  into  the  garden.  This 
Fig-tree  suggests  the  passing  remark,  that  although  the 
sexual  system  of  plants  owes  its  establishment  chiefly 
to  Linnaeus,  the  fact  was  well  known  to  the  ancients. 
The  Date-Palm,  in  all  ages  a  primary  object  of  culti- 
vation, bears  barren  and  fertile  flowers  upon  separate 
trees ;  and  the  Greeks  soon  discovered,  that  to  have 
abundant  and  well-flavoured  fruit,  it  was  expedient  to 
plant  both  together.  Without  this  arrangement  dates 
have  no  kernel,  and  are  not  good  fruit.  In  the  Levant 
the  same  process  is  practised  on  the  Pistacia  and  fig. 
This  gall  which  has  fallen  from  our  young  oak  is  a 
tumour  or  a  disease  in  the  tree,  and  will  ultimately 
become  animated  with  myriads  of  insects.  Galls  for 
making  ink  are  the  oak-apples  of  a  Levant  Quercus, 
different  from  any  of  ours.  Yonder  is  the  Holly,  from 
whose  bark  the  treacherous  bird-lime  is  prepared.  Po- 
ets have  bewailed  the  hard  fate  of  the  eagle,  whose 
wing  had  furnished  the  plume  of  the  arrow  by  which 
he  was  shot — why  have  they  not  melodized  in  verse 
the  perfidious  treatment  of  linnets  and  robins,  whose 
natural  perch  is  thus  converted  into  a  snare  to  rob  them 
of  their  life  and  liberty  ?  In  passing  this  Vine,  so  fer- 
tile in  all  pleasant  and  hilarious  associations,  we  may 
record  that  Dr.  Hales,  by  affixing  tubes  to  the  stump 
of  one  which  he  had  cut  off  in  April,  found  that  the  sap 
rose  twenty-one  feet  high  ;  whence  we  may  form  some 


WALKS    IN    THE    GARDEN.  85 

notion  of  the  moisture  which  these  plants  absorb  from 
the  earth,  and  brew  into  wine,  in  their  minute  vessels, 
for  the  recreation  and  delight  of  man.  The  village-clock 
striking  the  hour  of  eleven,  reminds  me  of  one  remark- 
able circumstance  which  I  might  otherwise  have  omitted 
to  notice — that  it  is  a  number  totally  unknown  in  bot- 
any, no  plant,  tree,  shrub,  or  flower,  having  yet  been 
discovered  in  which  the  corolla  has  eleven  males.  The 
prevalence  of  the  Polyandrian  system  among  plants  is 
attested  by  the  singular  fact,  that  out  of  11,500  species 
of  plants  enumerated  in  the  first  thirteen  classes  of  the 
Cambridge  collection,  there  is  not  one,  bearing  barren 
and  fertile  flowers,  in  which  the  females  exceed  the 
males. 

"  In  the  royal  ordering  of  gardens,"  says  Bacon, 
"  there  ought  to  be  a  garden  for  every  month  in  the 
year ;"  by  the  adoption  of  which  recommendation,  even 
in  private  pleasure-grounds,  we  might  secure  to  our- 
selves the  enjoyment  of  a  perpetual  bloom,  placing  our- 
selves, as  it  were,  beneath  the  cornucopia  of  Flora  to 
be  crowned  with  a  perennial  garland.  Even  when  the 
evergreens  in  the  depth  of  winter  refute  their  own 
name,  and  present  nothing  to  the  eye  but  waving  tufts 
of  snow,  we  may  perpetuate  the  summer  landscape  by 
turning  our  glance  inward,  and  recalling  the  flowery- 
ness  and  green  overgrowth  of  the  past  season  : — or  in 
the  midst  of  leafless  shrubs  and  trees,  whose  fleshless 
bones  are  wrapped  in  snow,  like  skeletons  in  their  wind- 
ing sheets,  we  may  call  around  us  all  their  verdant 
glories  by  anticipating  the  garniture  of  the  following 
spring,  in  the  manner  of  which  Cowper  has  afforded  so 
beautiful  an  example  : — 


86  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 


-  These  naked  shoots, 


Barren  as  lances,  among  which  the  wind 

Makes  wintry  music,  sighing  as  it  goes, 

Shall  put  their  graceful  foliage  on  again, 

And  more  aspiring,  and  with  ampler  spread, 

Shall  boast  new  charms,  and  more  than  they  have  lost 

Then  each  in  its  peculiar  honours  clad, 

Shall  publish  even  to  the  distant  eye 

Its  family  and  tribe.     Laburnum,  rich 

In  streaming  gold  ;  syriuga,  ivory  pure  ; 

The  scentless  and  the  scented  rose  ;  this  red, 

And  of  a  humbler  growth,  the  other  tall, 

And  throwing  up  into  the  darkest  gloom 

Of  neighbouring  cypress,  or  more  sable  yew, 

Her  silver  globes,  light  as  the  foamy  surf 

That  the  wind  severs  from  the  broken  wave : — 

The  lilac,  various  in  array,  now  white, 

Now  sanguine,  and  her  beauteous  head  now  set 

With  purple  spikes  pyramidal,  as  if 

Studious  of  ornament,  yet  unresolved 

Which  hue  she  most  approved,  she  chose  them  all ; — 

Copious  of  flowers  the  woodbine,  pale  and  wan, 

But  well  compensating  her  sickly  looks 

With  never-cloying  odours,  early  and  late ; — 

Hypericum  all  bloom,  so  thick  a  swarm 

Of  flowers,  like  flies  clothing  her  slender  rods, 

That  scarce  a  leaf  appears ; — mezerion  too, 

Though  leafless,  well  attired,  and  thick  beset 

With  blushing  wreaths,  investing  every  spray ; — 

Althaea  with  the  purple  eye :  the  broom 

Yellow  and  bright,  as  bullion  unalloy'd 

Her  blossoms;  and  luxuriant  above  all 

The  jasmine,  throwing  wide  her  elegant  sweeta, 

The  deep  dark-green  of  whose  unvarnish'd  leaf 

Makes  more  conspicuous,  and  illumines  more 

The  bright  profusion  of  her  scatter'd  stars." 


CORONATION    EXTRAORDINARY.  87 


CORONATION  EXTRAORDINARY. 

I  HAVE  seen  the  Coronation,  and  never  did  I  witness  a 
sight  so  magnificent — so  august — so  sublime.  If  ever 
the  exclamation  of  "  liczc  olim  meminisse  juvabif  can 
be  applicable,  it  must  be  to  a  spectacle  like  this,  which, 
by  eclipsing  the  future  as  well  as  the  past,  has  condens- 
ed the  wonders  of  a  whole  life  in  one  absorbing  moment, 
and  given  me  reason  to  be  thankful  that  my  existence 
was  made  contemporaneous  with  such  a  surpassing 
display  of  glory  and  splendour.  So  far  from  seeking  to 
aggrandize  what  I  have  seen,  even  if  that  were  possible, 
by  any  inflation  of  language,  I  have  purposely  abstained, 
during  several  days,  from  any  attempt  at  description,  in 
order  that  some  portion  of  my  enthusiasm  might  be 
suffered  to  evaporate ;  and  yet,  even  now,  I  feel  the 
necessity  of  perpetually  keeping  my  pen  below  the  level 
of  my  feelings,  lest  I  should  be  suspected  of  intemperate 
exaggeration.  In  all  sincerity  of  heart  I  may  say,  that 
I  unaffectedly  pity  those  who,  from  any  inexcusable 
considerations  of  interest,  or  the  more  justifiable  causes 
of  compulsory  absence,  have  been  debarred  from  sharing 
the  intense  gratification  which  I  have  experienced.  Exhi- 
bitions of  this  nature  are  rare,  and  a  concurrence  of  cir- 
cumstances united  to  give  interest  and  magnificence  to 
the  present,  which  may  never  be  again  combined.  The 
previous  night,  by  its  serene  splendour,  seemed  anxious 
to  do  honour  to  the  approaching  gorgeousness.  One 
would  have  thought  that  it  was  a  court-day  in  heaven, 
and  that  all  its  nobility  was  present,  sparkling  in  their 
stars,  and  coronets,  and  girdles  of  light ;  while  imagina- 


88  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

tion  easily  converted  the  milky  way  into  a  cluster  of 
radiant  courtiers  gathering  around  the  throne  from  which 
their  splendours  were  derived.  Morning  began  to  dawn 
with  a  calm  loveliness,  which  rather  confirmed  than 
dissipated  these  floating  delusions  of  the  mind.  From 
the  gallery  where  I  had  procured  a  seat,  I  saw  the  stars 
gradually  "'gin  to  pale  their  ineffectual  fires,"  until 
none  remained  visible  but  Dian's  crescent,  slowly  chang- 
ing its  hue  from  gold  to  silver,  and  the  sparkling  son  of 
Jupiter  and  Aurora,  Lucifer,  who,  by  his  reluctant 
twinklings,  seemed  struggling  for  a  little  longer  exist- 
ence, that  he  might  catch  one  glimpse  of  the  approach- 
ing magnificence.  Already  were  the  eastern  skies 
steeped  in  a  faint  grey  light,  interspersed  with  streaks 
of  pale  green,  while  fresh  flushes  of  a  rosier  hue  came 
every  moment  flooding  up  from  beneath  the  horizon, 
and  a  breeze,  sent  forward  as  the  herald  of  the  sun, 
presently  wafted  round  me  such  a  gush  of  crimson  ra- 
diance, that  I  felt  (to  use  the  only  poetical  expression  of 
Sternhold  and  Hopkins)  as  if  the  morning  "  on  the 
wings  of  wind  came  flying  all  abroad."  Behold,  I 
exclaimed, 

"  the  jocund  day 
Stands  tiptoe  on  the  misty  mountain's  top ;" 

and  I  was  endeavouring  to  recollect  Tasso's  beautiful 
description  of  sunrise,  when  the  increasing  charms  of 
the  daybreak  compelled  me  to  concentrate  all  my  facul- 
ties in  the  contemplation  of  the  scene  with  which  I  was 
surrounded. 

The  gallery  where  I  had  taken  my  station  was  a 
terrace  which  overhangs  the  Lake  of  Ch6de,  opposite  to 


CORONATION    EXTRAORDINARY.  89 

Mont  Blanc  ;  and  he  who  from  this  point  has  seen  the 
sun  rise,  and  shower  its  glories  upon  the  romantic  and 
stupendous  wonders  with  which  he  is  encompassed,  will 
not  marvel  that  I  shrink  from  the  hopeless  attempt  of 
its  description.  It  is  a  spectacle  to  be  felt,  not  painted. 
Amid  the  solitude  of  those  gigantic  and  sublime  regions 
there  is  something  peculiarly  impressive  in  witnessing 
the  magnificence  of  Nature,  as  she  silently  performs  her 
unerring  evolutions ;  and  the  heart  of  man,  feeling  itself 
in  the  immediate  presence  of  Omnipotence,  turns  with 
instinctive  reverence  to  its  Creator.  But  let  me  resume 
my  narrative  of  the  Coronation — not  of  a  poor  fleeting 
mortal  like  ourselves,  but  of  that  glorious  King  coeval 
with  the  world,  and  to  endure  till  the  great  globe  itself 
shall  crumble  and  dissolve ; — of  that  truly  legitimate 
Sovereign,  who  alone  can  plead  divine  right  for  his 
enthronement,  since  the  Almighty  has  planted  his  feet 
deep  in  the  bowels  of  the  earth,  and  lifted  his  head 
above  the  clouds  ; — of  that  Monarch  of  the  mountains, 
who  indeed  deserves  the  appellation  of  Majesty — Mont 
Blanc.  If  I  cannot  say,  in  newspaper  phraseology,  that 
the  morning  was  ushered  in  with  the  ringing  of  bells,  I 
may  affirm  that  ten  thousand  were  waving  to  and  fro  in 
the  breezes  of  Heaven,  for  the  lilies  of  the  valley,  and 
the  hyacinths,  and  the  blue  bells,  and  the  wild  flowers, 
were  all  nodding  their  down-looking  cups  at  the  earth  ; 
and  who  shall  say  that  they  were  not  melodious  with  a 
music  inaudible  to  human  ears,  although  fraught  with 
harmonious  vibrations  for  the  innumerable  insects  who 
were  recreating  themselves  beneath  their  pendant  bel- 
fries ?  No  daughter  of  earth,  however  fair  or  noble, 
would  have  been  presumptuous  enough  to  aspire  to  the 


90  (.All.  I  IKS    AND    GRAVITIES. 

honour  of  strewing  flowers  on  this  august  occasion,  for  a 
lu'nvriily  florist  had  fashioned  them  with  his  hand,  and 
perfumed  them  witli  hishreath,  and  Flora  scattered  them 
spontaneously  from  her  lap  as  she  walked  along  the 
valleys.  By  the  same  mighty  hand  was  performed  the 
ivivmony  of  the  anointing;  and  as  I  saw  the  dews  of 
heaven  glittering  in  the  dawning  light,  while  they  fell 
upon  the  head  of  the  mountain,  I  exclaimed,  "  Here, 
indeed,  is  a  monarch  who  may,  without  impiety,  be 
termed  the  Lord's  anointed  !"  Bursting  forth  from  a 
pavilion  of  crimson  and  gold  clouds,  the  sun  now  threw 
his  full  effulgence  upon  the  lofty  forehead  of  Mont 
Blanc ;  and  the  glaciers,  and  the  rocks  of  red  porphyry 
and  granite,  and  the  valley  of  Chamouni,  and  that  sea 
of  diamonds,  the  Mer  de  Glace,  gradually  became  cloth- 
ed in  gorgeous  robes  of  light.  As  I  contemplated  the 
sea-green  pyramids  of  ice  that  surrounded  Mont  Blanc, 
each,  as  it  became  tipped  with  sun-light,  appearing  to 
have  put  on  its  coronet  of  sparkling  silver,  methought 
there  never  had  been  so  grand  a  potentate,  encircled 
with  such  splendid  nobility  and  courtiers.  Nor  did  the 
great  hall  in  which  they  were  assembled  appear  un- 
worthy of  its  tenants ;  for  as  it  had  not  been  built  by 
hands,  so  neither  was  it  limited  by  human  powers, 
possessing  only  the  walls  of  the  horizon  for  its  bounda- 
ries, and  having  for  its  roof  the  azure  vault  of  heaven, 
painted  with  vari-coloured  clouds,  and  illuminated  by 
the  glorious  and  flaming  sun.  From  the  tops  of  the 
surrounding  heights,  various  stripes  of  purple  clouds, 
laeed  with  light,  assumed  the  appearance  of  flags  and 
banners  floating  in  the  air  in  honour  of  the  joyous  day ; 
but  my  attention  was  more  particularly  directed  to  two 


CORONATION    EXTRAORDINARY.  91 

hovering  masses  of  darker  hue,  which,  majestically 
descending  from  heaven  towards  the  summit  of  Mont 
Blanc,  at  length  deposited  their  burthen  upon  its  head 
in  the  form  of  a  crown  of  snow,  which  an  electric  flash 
instantly  lighted  up  with  intolerable  splendour,  while  a 
loud  peal  of  thunder  gave  notice  to  all  the  world  that 
the  ceremony  of  Coronation  had  been  accomplished. 
Alps  and  Apennines  "  rebellow'd  to  the  roar ;"  every 
mountain  opening  its  deep-toned  throat,  and  shouting 
out  the  joyful  intelligence  to  its  neighbour,  until,  after 
countless  hollow  and  more  hollow  reverberations,  the 
sound  died  away  in  the  distance  of  immeasurable 
space. 

Nor  was  the  banquet  wanting  to  complete  this  au- 
gust festival;  for  as  mine  eye  roamed  over  the  fertile 
plains  and  valleys  commanded  by  the  eminence  on  which 
I  stood,  I  found  that  He  who  owns  the  cattle  on  a  thou- 
sand hills  had  covered  them  with  corn,  and  fruits,  and 
wine,  and  oil,  and  honey,  spreading  out  a  perpetually 
renewed  feast  for  whole  nations,  diffusing,  at  the  same 
time,  odours  and  perfumes  on  every  side,  and  recreating 
the  ears  of  the  guests  with  the  mingled  harmony  of 
piping  birds,  melodious  winds,  rustling  woods,  the  gush- 
ing of  cascades,  and  the  tinkling  of  innumerable  rills. 
Again  I  turned  my  looks  towards  Mont  Blanc,  and  lo  ! 
a  huge  avalanche,  detaching  itself  from  its  summit,  came 
thundering  down  into  the  valley  below,  making  earth 
shake  with  the  concussion.  "  Behold  !"  I  exclaimed, 
"  He  who  overthroweth  the  horse  and  his  rider"  hath 
sent  his  Champion  to  challenge  all  the  world ;  and  at 
this  moment  a  smaller  portion,  which  had  broken  away 
from  the  falling  mass,  came  leaping  towards  me,  and 


92  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

shivered  itself  into  a  cloud  of  snow  beneath,  as  if  the 
tremendous  Champion  had  thrown  down  his  gauntlet 
at  my  feet.  Overcome  with  awe  and  wonder,  I  shrunk 
into  myself;  and  as  the  rocks,  and  caverns,  and  moun- 
tains round  echoed  to  the  roar  of  the  falling  avalanche, 
methought  they  hailed  the  Coronation  of  the  monarch, 
and  shouting  with  a  thousand  voices,  made  the  whole 
welkin  ring  to  their  acclamations  of  Mont  Blanc !  Mont 
Blanc  !  Mont  Blanc ! 

Since  witnessing  this  most  impressive  scene,  I  have 
read  an  account  of  the  Coronation  of  "  an  island- 
monarch  throned  in  the  west,"  with  all  its  circumstan- 
tial detail  of  Dukes,  Marquesses,  Earls,  Viscounts,  and 
Knights  in  their  ermine  robes,  Kings-at-arms,  and 
Heralds  in  their  gewgaw  coats,  and  Bishops  in  the  pomp 
of  pontificals,  with  the  parade  of  gold  spurs,  ewers,  maces, 
swords,  sceptres,  crowns,  balls  and  crosses ;  but  when  I 
compared  it  with  the  stupendous  exhibition  of  nature 
which  I  had  so  lately  beheld,  the  whole  sunk  into 
insignificance  ;  nor  could  I  suppress  a  smile  of  pity  as  I 
shared  the  feeling  with  which  Xerxes  contemplated  his 
mighty  armament,  and  reflected  that,  in  a  few  fleeting 
years,  the  whole  of  all  this  human  pride,  with  the  sol- 
diers and  horses  that  paraded  around  it,  and  the  multi- 
tude that  huzzaed  without,  would  be  converted  into 
dust ;  the  haughtiest  of  the  nobles  lying  an  outstretched 
corpse  in  a  dark  and  silent  vault,  with  nothing  of  his 
earthly  splendour  left  but  the  empty  trappings  and 
escutcheons  which,  in  mockery  of  the  lofty  titles  with 
which  they  are  inscribed,  will  hang  mouldering  upon 
his  coffin.  The  ceremony  will  not,  however,  have  been 
unavailing,  if  it  shall  have  awakened  reflections  of  this 


ADDRESS    TO    THE    ORANGE    TREE.  93 

nature  in  the  minds  of  those  who  contributed  to  it,  and 
have  impressed  upon  their  hearts  the  truth  of  Shirley's 
noble  lines,  in  the  contention  of  Ajax  and  Ulysses  : 

"  The  glories  of  our  earthly  state 

Are  shadows,  not  substantial  things ; 
There  is  no  armour  against  fate, 

Death  lays  his  icy  hand  on  kings : — 
Sceptre  and  crown 
Must  tumble  down, 
And  in  the  dust  be  equal  made 
With  the  poor  crooked  scythe  and  spade." 


ADDRESS  TO  THE  ORANGE  TREE  AT  VERSAILLES, 

CALLED    THE    GREAT   BOURBON,    WHICH    IS    ABOVE   FOUR 
HUNDRED    YEARS    OLD. 

WHEN  France  with  civil  wars  was  torn, 
And  heads,  as  well  as  crowns,  were  shorn 

From  royal  shoulders, 
One  Bourbon,  in  unalter'd  plight, 
Hath  still  maintain'd  its  regal  right, 
And  held  its  court — a  goodly  sight 

To  all  beholders. 

Thou,  leafy  monarch,  thou  alone, 
Hast  sat  uninjur'd  on  thy  throne, 

Seeing  the  war  range ; 
And  when  the  great  Nassaus  were  sent 
Crownless  away,  (a  sad  event!) 
Thou  didst  uphold  and  represent 

The  House  of  Orange. 


94  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

To  tell  what  changes  thou  hast  seen, 

Each  grand  monarque,  and  king  and  queen, 

Of  French  extraction ; 
Might  puzzle  those  who  don't  conceive 
French  history,  so  I  believe 
Comparing  thee  with  ours  will  give 

More  satisfaction. 


Westminster-Hall,*  whose  oaken  roof, 
The  papers  say  (but  that's  no  proof), 

Is  nearly  rotten ; 
Existed  but  in  stones  and  trees 
When  thou  wert  waving  in  the  breeze, 
And  blossoms  (what  a  treat  for  bees!) 

By  scores  hadst  gotten. 

Chaucer,  so  old  a  bard  that  time 

Has  antiquated  every  chime, 

And  from  his  tomb  outworn  each  rhyme 

Within  the  Abbey ; 
And  Gower,  an  older  poet,  whom 
The  Borough  church  enshrines,  (his  tomb, 
Though  once  restored,  has  lost  its  bloom, 

And  got  quite  shabby,) 

Lived  in  thy  time — the  first  perchance 
Was  beating  monksf — when  thou  in  France 

By  monks  wert  beaten, 
Who  shook  beneath  this  very  tree 
Their  reverend  beards,  with  glutton  glee, 
As  each  downfalling  luxury 

Was  caught  and  eaten. 


*  Rebuilt  in  1839. 

t  There  is  a  tradition  (though  not  authenticated)  that  Chaucer  was  fined 
for  beating  a  friar  in  Fleet  Street. 


ADDRESS    TO    THE    ORANGE    TREE.  95 

Perchance,  when  Henry  gain'd  the  fight 
Of  Agin  court,  some  Gaulish  Knight, 
(His  bleeding  steed  in  woeful  plight, 

With  smoking  haunches,) 
Laid  down  his  helmet  at  thy  root, 
And  as  he  pluck'd  the  grateful  fruit, 
Suffer' d  his  poor  exhausted  brute 

To  crop  thy  branches. 

Thou  wert  of  portly  size  and  look, 
When  first  the  Turks  besieged  and  took 

Constantinople ; 

And  eagles  in  thy  boughs  might  perch, 
When,  leaving  Bullen  in  the  lurch, 
Another  Henry  changed  his  church, 

And  used  the  Pope  ill. 

What  numerous  namesakes  hast  thou  seen 
Lounging  beneath  thy  shady  green, 

With  monks  as  lazy  ; 
Louis  Quatorze  has  pressed  that  ground, 
With  his  six  mistresses  around — 
A  sample  of  the  old  and  sound 

Legitimacy. 

And  when  despotic  freaks  and  vices 
Brought  on  th'  inevitable  crisis 

Of  revolution, 

Thou  heard'st  the  mobs'  infuriate  shriek, 
Who  came  their  victim  Queen  to  seek, 
On  guiltless  heads  the  wrath  to  wreak 

Of  retribution. 

Oh  1  of  what  follies,  vice  and  crime, 
Hast  thou,  in  thy  eventful  time, 
Been  made  beholder ! 


96  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

What  wars,  what  feuds — the  thoughts  appal  1 
Each  against  each,  and  all  with  all, 
Till  races  upon  races  fall 
In  earth  to  moulder. 

Whilst  thou  serene,  unaltered,  calm, 
(Such  are  the  constant  gifts  and  balin 

Bestow' d  by  Nature !) 
Hast  year  by  year  renew'd  thy  flowers, 
And  perfumed  the  surrounding  bowel's, 
And  pour'd  down  grateful  fruit  by  showers, 
And  proffer'd  shade  in  summer  hours 

To  man  and  creature. 

Thou  green  and  venerable  tree ! 
Whate'er  the  future  doom  may  be 

By  fortune  giv'n, 

Remember  that  a  rhymester  brought 
From  foreign  shores  thine  umbrage  sought, 
Recall'd  the  blessings  thou  hadst  wrought, 
And,  as  he  thank'd  thee,  raised  his  thought 

To  heav'n ! 


ON  LIPS  AND  KISSING. 

"  But  who  those  ruddy  lips  can  miss, 
Which  blessed  still  themselves  do  kiss." 

How  various,  delicate,  and  delightful,  are  the  func- 
tions of  the  lips  !  I  purpose  not  to  treat  them  anato- 
mically, or  I  might  expatiate  on  the  exquisite  flexibi- 
lity of  those  muscles,  which  by  the  incalculable  modu- 
lations they  accomplish,  supply  different  languages  to 
all  the  nations  of  the  earth,  and  hardly  ever  fatigue 
the  speaker,  though  they  so  often  prove  wearisome  to 


ON    LIPS    AND    KISSING.  97 

the  auditor.  Nor  shall  I  dwell  upon  the  opposite  im- 
pressions which  their  exercise  is  calculated  to  excite, 
from  the  ruby  mouth  of  a  Corinna,  to  the  lean-lipped 
Xantippe,  deafening  her  hen-pecked  mate,  or  the  gruff 
voice  of  the  turnkey  who  wakes  you  out  of  a  sound 
sleep,  to  tell  you  it  is  seven  o'clock,  and  you  must 
get  up  directly  to  be  hanged.  But  I  shall  proceed  at 
once  to  external  beauty,  although  it  must  be  admitted, 
before  I  enter  into  the  mouth  of  my  subject,  that  there 
is  no  fixed  standard  of  perfection  for  this  feature, 
either  in  form  or  colour.  Poor  Mungo  Park,  after  hav- 
ing turned  ,many  African  women  sick,  and  frightened 
others  into  fits,  by  his  unnatural  whiteness,  was  once 
assured  by  a  kind-hearted  woolly-headed  gentleman, 
that  though  he  could  not  look  upon  him  without  an 
involuntary  disgust,  he  only  felt  the  more  compassion 
for  his  misfortune ;  and  upon  another  occasion,  he 
overheard  a  jury  of  matrons  debating  whether  a  fe- 
male could  be  found  in  any  country  to  kiss  such  ema- 
ciated and  frightful  lips.  How  Noah's  grandchildren, 
the  African  descendants  of  Ham,  came  to  be  black, 
has  never  yet  been  satisfactorily  explained,  and  it 
were  therefore  vain  to  inquire  into  the  origin  of  their 
enormous  lips,  which  do  not  seem  better  adapted  to  a 
hot  climate  than  our  own ;  but  there  is  good  reason 
to  believe  that  the  ancient  Egyptians  were  as  ponder- 
ously provided  in  this  respect  as  their  own  bull-god, 
for  the  Sphinx  has  a  very  Nubian  mouth,  and  the 
Mem non's  head,  so  far  from  giving  us  the  idea  of  a 
musical  king  who  could  compete  with  Pan  or  Apollo, 
rather  tempts  us  to  exclaim  in  the  language  of  Dry- 
den — 

6 


98  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

"Thou  sing  with  him,  thou  booby  !  never  pipe 
"Was  so  profaned  to  touch  that  blubber'd  lip." 

A  more  angular  and  awkward  set  of  two-legged 
animals  seem  never  to  have  existed.  They  must  have 
worshipped  monkeys  on  account  of  their  resemblance 
to  their  own  human  form  divine ;  and  we  cannot  attri- 
bute their  appearance  to  the  unskilfulness  of  the  artist 
rather  than  the  deformity  of  the  subject,  for  the  draw- 
ings of  animals  are  always  accurate,  and  sometimes  ex- 
tremely graceful. 

All  this  only  makes  it  the  more  wonderful  that  Ce- 
crops,  by  leading  a  colony  from  the  mouths  of  the 
Nile  to  Attica,  should  found  a  nation  which,  to  say 
nothing  of  its  surpassing  pre-eminence  in  arts  and 
arms,  attained  in  a  short  period  that  exquisite  propor- 
tion and  beauty  of  form  of  which  they  have  left  us 
memorials  in  their  glorious  statues,  and  have  thus  eter- 
nally fixed  the  European  standard  of  symmetry  and 
loveliness.  The  vivid  fancy  of  the  Greeks  not  only 
peopled  woods,  waves,  and  mountains  with  imaginary 
beings,  but  by  a  perpetual  intermingling  of  the  physi- 
cal and  moral  world,  converted  their  arms,  instruments, 
and  decorations  into  types  and  symbols,  thus  elevating 
inanimate  objects  into  a  series  of  hieroglyphics,  as  they 
had  idealized  their  whole  system  of  mythology  into  a 
complicated  allegory.  To  illustrate  this  by  recurring 
to  the  subject  of  our  essay.  Many  people  contemplate 
the  classical  bow  of  the  ancients  without  recollecting 
that  its  elegant  shape  is  supplied  originally  by  Nature, 
as  it  is  an  exact  copy  of  the  line  described  by  the  sur- 
face of  the  upper  lip.  It  is  only  by  recalling  this  cir- 


ON    LIPS    AND    KISSING.  99 

cumstance  that  we  can  fully  appreciate  that  curious 
felicity  which  appropriated  the  lip-shaped  bow  to 
Apollo  the  god  of  eloquence,  and  to  Cupid  the  god  of 
love,  thus  typifying  that  amorous  shaft,  which  is  never 
so  powerfully  shot  into  the  heart  as  through  the  me- 
dium of  a  kiss.  It  is  in  this  spirit  of  occult  as  well  as 
visible  beauty  that  classical  antiquity  should  be  felt 
and  studied.  No  upper  lip  can  be  pronounced  beau- 
tiful unless  it  have  this  line  as  distinctly  defined  as  I 
now  see  it  before  me  in  a  sleeping  infant.  I  am  sorry 
to  be  personal  towards  my  readers,  particularly  those 
of  the  fair  sex,  but,  my  dear  Madam,  it  is  useless  to 
consult  your  glass,  or  complain  that  the  mirrors  are 
not  half  so  well  made  now  as  they  were  when  you 
were  younger.  By  biting  them  you  may  indeed  make 
"  your  lips  blush  deeper  sweets,"  but  you  cannot  bid 
them  display  the  desiderated  outline.  Such  vain  en- 
deavours, like  the  formal  mumbling  of  prayers,  "  are 
but  useless  formalities  and  lip-labour."  Yours  are,  in 
fact,  (be  it  spoken  in  a  whisper,)  what  a  friend  of  mine 
denominates  sixpenny  lips,  from  their  tenuity,  and 
maintains  them  to  be  indicative  of  deceit.  He,  how- 
ever, is  a  physiognomist,  which  I  am  not,  or  at  least 
only  to  a  very  modified  extent.  All  those  muscles 
which  are  flexible  and  liable  to  be  called  into  action 
by  the  passions  may,  I  conceive,  permanently  assume 
some  portion  of  the  form  into  which  they  are  most 
frequently  thrown,  and  thus  betray  to  us  the  predomi- 
nant feelings  of  the  mind ;  but  as  no  emotions  can 
influence  the  collocation  of  our  features,  or  the  fixed 
constituents  of  our  frame,  I  have  no  faith  in  their 
indications.  As  to  the  craniologists  and  others  who 


100  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

maintain  that  we  are  made  angels  and  devils,  not  by 
wings  at  our  shoulders  or  tails  at  our  backs,  but  by 
the  primitive  bosses  upon  our  skulls,  I  recommend 
them  a  voyage  to  one  of  the  South  Sea  islands,  where 
they  will  find  the  usual  diversity  of  individual  charac- 
ter, although  all  the  infants'  heads  are  put  into  a  frame 
at  the  birth,  and  compelled  to  grow  up  in  the  shape 
of  a  sugar-loaf.  Not  that  Spurzheim  would  be  em- 
barrassed by  this  circumstance.  He  would  only  pro- 
nounce from  their  mitre-like  configuration  that  they 
had  the  organ  of  Episcopativeness. 

Nay,  Miss,  I  have  not  been  so  absorbed  in  this  lit- 
tle digression,  but  that  I  have  observed  you  endea- 
vouring to  complete  the  classical  contour  of  your 
mouth  by  the  aid  of  lip-salve,  as  if  bees-wax  and  rouge 
could  supply  what  the  plastic  and  delicate  hand  of  Na- 
ture had  failed  to  impress.  Cupid  has  not  stamped 
his  bow  upon  your  mouth,  yet  I  swear  by  those  lips 
(I  wish  you  would  take  a  hint  from  one  of  our  LIT- 
TLE though  by  no  means  one  of  our  minor  poets,  and 
call  upon  me  to  kiss  the  book,)  that  they  are  beautiful- 
ly ripe  and  ruddy, 

"  Like  to  a  double  cherry,  seeming  parted, 
And  yet  an  union  in  partition." 

They  are  such  as  Cornelius  Gallus  loved ; 

"  Flammea  dilexi,  modicumque  tumentia  labra, 
Quse  mihi  gustanti  basia  plena  darent :" 

and  if  any  one  should  object  that  an  Egyptian  prsefect 
was  a  bad  judge  of  beauty,  you  may  safely  maintain 
that  the  elegies  which  bear  his  name  were  in  fact  com- 


ON    LIPS    AND    KISSING.  101 

posed  by  monks  of  the  middle  age,  whose  competency 
to  decide  upon  such  a  subject  will  hardly  be  disputed. 
Those  lips  are  full  and  round,  but  beware  of  their  being 
tempted  into  a  froward  expression,  for,  if 

"  Like  a  misbehaved  and  sullen  wench 
Thou  pout'st  upon  thy  fortune  and  thy  love," 

I  will  supply  thee  with  no  more  eulogiums  from  either 
monks  or  prefects.  The  "slumberous  pout"  which 
Keats  has  so  delightfully  described  in  his  sleeping 
Deity,  is  the  only  one  which  is  becoming. 

I  see  another  of  my  readers  mincing  up  her  mouth, 
with  that  toss  of  the  head  and  self-satisfied  air,  which 
assure  me  that  she  is  a  flirt  and  coquette ;  and  though 
her  lips  be  ruddy,  "as  they  in  pure  vermillion  had 
been  dyed,"  I  entreat  her  to  recollect,  that  "lips 
though  rosy  must  still  be  fed,"  and  recommend  her 
"  to  fall  upon  her  knees  and  thank  heaven  fasting  for 
a  good  man's  love."  If  she  make  mouths  at  me  as 
well  as  at  her  lovers,  and  heed  not  my  counsel,  I  can 
only  exclaim, 

"  Take,  O  take  those  lips  away, 
Which  so  often  were  forsworn," — <fcc., 

and  have  nothing  to  thank  her  for  but  the  recalling 
of  those  exqusite  lines,  whether  they  be  Shakspeare's  or 
Fletcher's. 

Now,  however,  I  behold  a  nobler  vision  hanging 
over  and  irradiating  the  page.  It  is  of  a  lovely  nymph, 
in  whose  looks  and  lips  the  bows  of  Apollo  and  Cupid 
seem  intertwined  and  indented.  She  does  not  simper 


102  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

from  affectation,  nor  smile  because  it  is  becoming,  nor 
compress  her  lips  to  hide  a  defective  tooth,  nor  open 
them  to  display  the  symmetry  of  the  rest;  but  her 
mouth  has  that  expression  which  the  painter  of  Bathyl- 
lus,  in  the  Greek  Anthology,  was  instructed  to  catch, — 

"And  give  his  lips  that  speaking  air 
As  if  a  word  were  hovering  there." 

Hers  is  not  of  that  inexpressive  doll-like  character, 
which  seems  to  smirk  as  if  it  were  conscious  of  its  own 
silly  prettiness ;  nor  has  she  the  pouting  come-kiss-me 
under-lip  of  sealing-wax  hue  which  one  sees  in  the 
portraits  of  Lely  and  Kneller;  but  while  in  the  ani- 
mation of  her  looks  intelligence  seems  to  be  beaming 
from  her  eyes,  enchantment  appears  to  dwell  within 
the  ruby  portals  of  her  mouth.  Its  very  silence  is 
eloquent,  for  hers  are  the  lips  which  Apollo  loved  in 
Daphne,  and  Cupid  in  his  Psyche, — which  Phidias 
and  Praxiteles  have  immortalized  in  marble,  and 
which  immutable  Nature  still  produces  when  she  is 
in  her  happiest  and  most  graceful  moods.  Hers  is 
the  mouth,  in  short,  which,  to  use  an  appropriate 
botanical  phrase,  conducts  us  by  a  natural  and  de- 
lightful inosculation  to  the  second  division,  or  rather 
union  of  my  subject — Kissing. 

This  is  a  very  ancient  and  laudable  practice, 
whether  as  a  mark  of  respect  or  affection.  The  Roman 
Emperors  saluted  their  principal  officers  by  a  kiss  ;  and 
the  same  mode  of  congratulation  was  customary  upon 
every  promotion  or  fortunate  event.  Among  the  same 
people,  men  were  allowed  to  kiss  their  female  relations 


ON    LIPS    AND    KISSING.  103 

on  the  mouth,  that  they  might  know  whether  they 
smelt  of  wine  or  not,  as  it  seems  those  vaunted  dames 
and  damsels  were  apt  to  make  too  free  with  the  juice 
of  the  grape,  notwithstanding  a  prohibition  to  the  con- 
trary. The  refinement  of  manners  among  these  classi- 
cal females  was  probably  pretty  much  upon  a  par  with 
that  depicted  in  the  Beggar's  Opera,  where  Macheath 
exclaims,  after  saluting  Jenny  Diver, — "  One  may  know 
by  your  kiss  that  your  gin  is  excellent."  The  ancients 
used  not  only  to  kiss  their  dying  relations,  from  a 
strange  notion  that  they  should  inhale  the  departing 
soul,*  but  repeated  the  salutation  when  dead,  by  way 
of  valediction ;  and  finally,  when  they  were  laid  upon 
the  funeral  pile.  There  is  no  accounting  for  tastes ; 
but,  for  my  own  part,  I  would  rather  salute  the  living ; 
and  I  even  carry  my  singularity  so  far  as  to  prefer  the 
soft  lips  of  a  female,  to  that  mutual  presentation  of 
bristled  cheeks  to  which  one  is  subject  by  the  customs 
of  France.  A  series  of  essays  has  been  written  on  the 
rational  recreation  of  kissing,  by  John  Everard,  better 
known  as  Johannes  Secundus,  the  author  of  the  Basia, 
which  has  the  disgrace  of  being  even  more  licentious 
than  his  prototypes,  Propertius  and  Catullus.  This 
gentleman  held  the  same  situation  under  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Toledo,  that  Gil  Bias  filled  under  the  Arch- 
bishop of  Granada ;  but  instead  of  devoting  his  time 
to  the  improvement  of  homilies,  he  employed  himself 

*  Plato  seems  to  have  thought  that  this  interchange  might 
occur  among  the  living,  for  he  says  when  he  kisses  his  mistress, 

"  My  soul  then  flutters  to  my  lip, 
Ready  to  fly  and  mix  with  thine." 


104  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

in  describing  kisses  of  every  calibre,  from  the  counter- 
part of  that  bestowed  by  Petruchio  upon  his  bride,  who 

"  kist  her  lips 

With  such  a  clamorous  smack,  that  at  the  parting 
All  the  church  echo'd" 

to  the  fond  and  gentle  embrace  described  by  Milton, 
when  Adam,  gazing  upon  our  first  parent  in  the  de- 
licious bowers  of  Eden — 

"  in  delight 

Both  of  her  beauty  and  submissive  charms 
Smiled  with  superior  love,  as  Jupiter 
On  Juno  smiles,  when  he  impregns  the  clouds 
That  shed  May  flowers ;  and  press'd  her  matron  lip 
With  kisses  pure." 

Old  Ben  Jonson,  unlike  Captain  Wattle,  preferred 
the  taste  of  his  mistress's  lip  to  Sillery  or  Chateau-Mar- 
gaud,  for  which  we  have  the  authority  of  his  well- 
known  song — 

"  Or  leave  a  kiss  within  the  cup, 
And  I'll  not  ask  for  wine." 

And  Anacreon  himself,  tippler  as  he  was,  did  not  relish 
his  Chian,  "  had  not  the  lips  of  love  first  touched 
the  flowing  bowl."  The  poets  in  general  can  hardly 
be  supposed  to  have  possessed  "  lips  that  beauty  hath 
seldom  bless VI ;"  and  if  they  have  not  always  recorded 
this  fact,  they  were  probably  restrained  by  the  sancti- 
tude  of  that  injunction  which  orders  us  not  to  kiss  and 
tell.  Yet  there  ought  to  be  no  squeamishness  in  the 


ON    LIPS    AND    KISSING.  105 

confession,  for  Nature  herself  is  ever  setting  us  exam- 
ples of  cordiality  and  love,  without  the  least  affectation 
of  secrecy — 


-  "This  woody  realm 


Is  Cupid's  bower ;  see  how  the  trees  en  wreath 
Their  arms  in  amorous  embraces  twined ! 
The  gurglings  of  the  rill  that  runs  beneath, 
Are  but  the  kisses  which  it  leaves  behind, 
While  softly  sighing  through  these  fond  retreats 
The  wanton  wind  woos  every  thing  it  meets." 

• 
We  may  all  gaze  upon  the  scene,  when,  according  to 

the  poet, 

"  The  far  horizon  kisses  the  red  sky," 

or  look  out  upon  the  ocean 

"  When  the  uplifted  waters  kiss  the  clouds." 

There  was  doubtless  an  open  footpath  over  that  "hea- 
ven-kissing hill,"  whereon,  according  to  Shakspeare,  the 
feathered  Mercury  alighted  ;  and  there  were,  probably, 
many  enamoured  wanderers  abroad  on  that  tranquil 
night  recorded  by  the  same  poet — 

"When  the  sweet  wind  did  gently  kiss  the  trees, 
And  they  did  make  no  noise." 

Even  that  phlegmatic  compound,  a  pie,  has  its  kissing- 
crust.  There  is  no  kissing,  indeed,  animate  or  inani- 
mate, that  has  not  its  recommendations ;  but  there  is  a 
nondescript  species,  somewhat  between  both,  against 
which  I  beg  to  enter  my  protest — I  mean  the  degrading 
5* 


106  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

ceremony  of  a  man  made  in  God's  image,  kneel- 
ing to  kiss  the  hand  of  a  fellow-mortal  at  Court,  merely 
because  that  mortal  is  the  owner  of  a  crown  and  a  dis- 
penser of  places  and  titles.  Nay,  there  are  inconsistent 
beings  who  have  kissed  the  foot  of  the  Servant  of  ser- 
vants at  Rome,  and  yet  boggled  at  performing  the  ko- 
tou  at  Pekin,  to  the  Son  of  the  Moon,  the  Brother  of 
the  Sun,  and  the  Lord  of  the  Celestial  Empire.  In- 
stead of  complaining  at  knocking  their  nobs  upon  the 
floor  before  such  an  august  personage,  it  seemed  rea- 
sonable to  suppose  that  they  would  conjure  up  in,  their 
imaginations  much  more  revolting  indignities.  Rabe- 
lais, when  he  was  in  the  suit  of  Cardinal  Lorraine,  ac- 
companied him  to  Rome,  and  no  sooner  saw  him  pros- 
trate before  the  Pope,  and  kissing  his  toe,  as  customary, 
than  he  suddenly  turned  round,  shut  the  door,  and 
scampered  home.  Upon  his  return,  the  cardinal  asked 
him  the  meaning  of  this  insult.  "  When  I  saw  you," 
said  Rabelais,  "  who  are  my  master,  and,  moreover,  a 
cardinal  and  a  prince,  kissing  the  Pope's  foot,  I  could 
not  bear  to  anticipate  the  sort  of  ceremony  that  was 
probably  reserved  for  your  servant." 


TO  A  LOG  OF  WOOD  UPON  THE  FIRE. 

WHEN  Horace,  as  the  snows  descended, 
On  Mount  Soracte,  recommended 

That  Logs  be  doubled, 
Until  a  blazing  fire  arose, 
I  wonder  whether  thoughts  like  those 
Which  in  my  noddle  interpose 

His  fancy  troubled. 


TO  A  LOG  OF  WOOD  UPON  THE  FIRE.     107 

Poor  Log !  I  cannot  hear  thee  sigh, 
And  groan,  and  hiss,  and  see  thee  die, 

To  warm  a  Poet, 
Without  evincing  thy  success, 
And  as  thou  wanest  less  and  less, 
Inditing  a  farewell  address, 

To  let  thee  know  it. 

Peeping  from  earth — a  bud  unveil'd, 
Some  "  bosky  bourne"  or  dingle  hail'd 

Thy  natal  hour, 

While  infant  winds  around  thee  blew, 
And  thou  wert  fed  with  silver  dew, 
And  tender  sun-beams  oozing  through 

Thy  leafy  bower. 

Earth — water — air — thy  growth  prepared, 
And  if  perchance  some  Robin,  scared 

From  neighbouring  manor, 
Perch'd  on  thy  crest,  it  rock'd  in  air, 
Making  his  ruddy  feathers  flare 
In  the  sun's  ray,  as  if  they  were 

A  fairy  banner. 

Or  if  some  nightingale  impress'd 
Against  thy  branching  top  her  breast 

Heaving  with  passion, 
And  in  the  leafy  nights  of  June 
Outpour'd  her  sorrows  to  the  moon, 
Thy  trembling  stem  thou  didst  attune 

To  each  vibration. 

Thou  grew'st  a  goodly  tree,  with  shoots 
Fanning  the  sky,  and  earth-bound  roots 

So  grappled  under, 

That  thou  whom  perching  birds  could  swing, 
And  zephyrs  rock  with  lightest  wing, 


108  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

From  thy  firm  trunk  unmoved  didst  fling 
Tempest  and  thunder. 

Thine  offspring  leaves — death's  annual  prey, 
Which  Herod  Winter  tore  away 

From  thy  caressing, 

In  heaps,  like  graves,  around  thee  blown, 
Each  morn  thy  dewy  tears  have  strown, 
O'er  each  thy  branching  hands  been  thrown, 

As  if  in  blessing. 

Bursting  to  life,  another  race 

At  touch  of  Spring  in  thy  embrace 

Sported  and  flutter'd ; 
Aloft,  where  wanton  breezes  play'd, 
In  thy  knit-boughs  have  ringdoves  made 
Their  nest,  and  lovers  in  thy  shade 

Their  vows  have  utter'd. 

How  oft  thy  lofty  summits  won 
Morn's  virgin  smile,  and  hail'd  the  sun 

With  rustling  motion ; 
How  oft  in  silent  depths  of  night, 
When  the  moon  sail'd  in  cloudless  light, 
Thou  hast  stood  awestruck  at  the  sight> 

In  hush'd  devotion — 

'Twere  vain  to  ask  ;  for  doom'd  to  fall, 
The  day  appointed  for  us  all 

O'er  thee  impended : 
The  hatchet,  with  remorseless  blow, 
First  laid  thee  in  the  forest  low, 
Then  cut  thee  into  logs — and  so 

Thy  course  was  ended — 

But  not  thine  use — for  moral  rules, 

Worth  all  the  wisdom  of  the  schools, 

Thou  may'st  bequeath  me  ; 


LITERARY    SOCIETY    IN    HOUNDSDITCH.  109 

Bidding  me  cherish  those  who  live 
Above  me,  and  the  more  I  thrive, 
A  wider  shade  and  shelter  give 
To  those  beneath  me. 

So  when  death  lays  his  axe  to  me, 
I  may  resign  as  calm  as  thee 

My  hold  terrestrial ; 
Like  thine  my  latter  end  be  found 
Diffusing  light  and  warmth  around, 
And  like  thy  smoke  my  spirit  bound 

To  realms  celestial. 


MISS  HEBE  HOGGINS'S  ACCOUNT  OF  A  LITERARY 
SOCIETY  IN  HOUNDSDITCH. 

LETTER    I. 

SIR, — You  will  please  to  consider  the  red  ink  in  which 
the  commencement  of  this  letter  is  indited,  as  emble- 
matic of  my  blushes,  when  I  make  the  confession  that 
my  father  is  a  cooper  in  Houndsditch ;  not  that  there 
is  any  thing  degrading  in  the  profession,  for  we  have 
poets  who  have  started  into  celebrity  from  the  inferior 
stations  of  cowherds,  ploughmen,  and  shoemakers, — 
but,  alas !  my  poor  father  is  not  likely  to  achieve  great- 
ness, still  less  to  have  it  thrust  upon  him,  for  he  under- 
stands nothing  whatever  but  his  business.  Determined 
that  his  own  defect  of  education  should  not  be  entailed 
upon  his  daughter,  he  sent  me  to  a  genteel  boarding- 
school  at  Kensington,  where  my  associates,  in  the  petu- 
lancy  of  youthful  pride,  presently  assailed  me  with 
every  species  of  ridicule  on  account  of  ray  parent's 


110  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

vulgar  occupation.  One  christened  him  Diogenes,  and 
with  an  air  of  mock-gravity  inquired  after  his  tub  ;  an- 
other told  me  I  resembled  him,  inasmuch  as  I  carried  a 
hogshead  upon  my  shoulders  (which  was  a  gross  libel 
upon  my  physiognomy)  ;  a  third,  quoting  Addison,  ex- 
claimed, 

"  Why  does  he  load  with  darts 

His  trembling  hands,  and  crush  beneath  a  casque 
His  wrinkled  brows  ?" 

while  a  fourth,  whenever  I  ventured  to  sing,  observed 
that  I  was  then  in  my  proper  element,  as  I  was  favour- 
ing them  with  a  few  staves.  Nothing  reconciled  me 
to  this  spiteful  persecution  but  the  superior  success  with 
which  I  prosecuted  my  studies.  Mortified  vanity  stim- 
ulated me  to  aspire  to  a  higher  rank  of  intellect,  as 
some  atonement  for  inferiority  of  station ;  and  my 
object  was  so  far  attained,  that  I  was  enabled  to  retali- 
ate upon  fashionable  dunces  the  sneers  and  taunts 
which  they  levelled  against  city  minxes  and  upstart 
vulgarians.  Among  my  schoolfellows  there  were  seve- 
ral who  feared  me,  and  many  who  refrained  from  open 
quizzing ;  but  they  all  held  themselves  aloof  from  any 
intimacy,  and  I  found  the  pride  of  surpassing  some  in 
their  studies,  and  of  inflicting  pain  upon  the  feelings  of 
others  whenever  my  own  were  attacked,  but  a  poor 
compensation  for  the  unsociableness  to  which  I  was 
condemned  by  their  open  or  suppressed  contempt. 
Even  this  miserable  comfort  was  denied  me  when  I 
left  school  and  was  taken  home  into  Houndsditch,  for 
my  own  acquirements  only  served  to  render  more  strik- 
ing, and  infinitely  more  galling,  the  wretched  illiterate- 


LITERARY    SOCIETY    IN    HOUNDSDITCH.  Ill 

ness  of  my  parents.  Conceive,  my  dear  Mr.  Editor, 
the  horror  of  hearing  my  father,  who  had  yielded  to 
my  mother's  wishes  in  the  selection  of  a  polite  semi- 
nary for  my  studies,  inquire  whether  I  had  larnt  to 
darn  stockings  and  make  a  pudding  !  But  even  this 
Vandalism  was  less  grating  to  my  soul  than  the  letter 
which  my  mother  wrote  a  few  days  after  my  return,  to 
the  parent  of  one  of  my  schoolfellows,  inquiring  the 
character  of  a  cook,  which  she  thus  commenced : 
"  Mrs.  Hoggins  presents  her  compliments  to  the  Honour- 
able Mrs.  Hartopp,  as  I  understand  Betty  Butter  lived 
in  your  family  as  cook,  Mrs.  H — begs  Mrs.  II —  will 
inform  her  whether  she  understands  her  business,  and  I 
hope  Mrs.  H — will  be  particular  in  stating  to  Mrs. 
H — ,"  &c. — and  thus  she  continued  for  a  whole  page, 
confounding  first,  second,  and  third  persons,  and  bepuz- 
zling Mrs.  H — 's  in  a  most  astounding  commutation  of 
initials  and  individualities. — At  my  earnest  solicitation 
this  letter  was  condemned,  and  a  second  composed 
which  started  with  this  inauspicious  exordium  : — 
"  Betty  Butter,  whom,  according  to  her  own  account, 
lived  two  years  with  you  as  cook," — and  proceeded  in 
a  similar  strain  of  verbs  without  nominatives,  and  rela- 
tives with  antecedents.  This  also  she  consented  to 
cancel,  not  without  sundry  peevish  exclamations  against 
the  new-fangled  English  and  nonsensical  pedantry 
taught  at  the  schools  now-a-days,  none  of  which  were 
heard  of  in  her  time,  although  the  world  went  on  quite 
as  well  then  as  it  did  now.  Having  tartly  reprimanded 
me  for  my  saucy  offer  of  inditing  a  proper  note,  she 
took  out  a  new  crow-pen,  reflected  for  some  minutes 
upon  the  best  method  of  arranging  her  ideas,  and 


112  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

finally  recommenced  thus : — "  Madam, — Understanding 
Betty  Butter  lived  with  you  as  cook,  has  induced  me  to 
write  you  these  few  lines,"  &c. :  and  this  horrific  epistle, 
terminating  as  awfully  as  it  began,  was  actually  des- 
patched !  O  Sir !  imagine  the  abomination  to  all  my 
grammatical  nerves  and  philological  sympathies ! 

From  such  gothic  society  I  found  it  absolutely  ne- 
cessary to  emancipate  myself,  and  I  have  the  pleasure 
to  inform  you,  that  after  innumerable  difficulties  and 
delays,  from  the  ignorance  of  some  and  the  ridicule  of 
others,  T  have  succeeded  in  establishing  a  Blue-stock- 
ing Society  in  Houndsditch,  which,  if  I  am  not  much 
mistaken,  will  eventually  rival  the  most  celebrated 
literary  associations  that  have  been  formed  from  the 
days  of  Pericles  down  to  those  of  Lorenzo  de'  Medici 
and  Dr.  Johnson.  Considering  the  soul  to  be  of  no  sex, 
I  have  admitted  males  of  undoubted  genius  into  our 
club,  and  we  can  already  boast  of  several  names  that 
only  want  the  means  and  opportunity  to  become  im- 
mortal. The  hitherto  Boeotian  realm  of  Houndsditch 
begins  to  be  fertile  in  classical  and  Attic  associations. 
The  Sugar-baker's  upon  Tower  Hill  we  have  consecrated 
to  Grecian  reminiscences  as  the  Acropolis,  and  the 
Smoking-room  upon  its  roof  is  hallowed  to  our  eyes  as 
the  Parthenon  ;  the  Tower  is  our  Piraeus,  and  the  houses 
on  each  side  of  the  Minories  are  the  long  walls ;  Aid- 
gate  Pump  is  the  Grotto  of  Pan ;  Whitechapel  Church 
is  the  Ceramicus ;  the  East  India  Company's  Ware- 
houses in  Leadenhall-street  are  the  Temple  of  Theseus ; 
the  extremities  of  Fen-church-street  are  the  Propylaea ; 
and  the  Synagogue  in  Duke's-place  the  Odeum.  Thus 


LITERARY    SOCIETY    IN    HOUNDSDITCH.  113 

you  see,  Sir,  we  are  upon  classic  ground  in  whatever 
direction  we  move  ;  while,  to  complete  the  illusion,  we 
have  named  the  great  kennel  leading  to  Tower-hill  the 
Ilyssus,  and  I  am  credibly  assured  it  is  quite  as  large 
as  the  original.  Our  Academus,  a  room  which  we  have 
hired  in  Houndsditch.  is  planted  with  pots  of  geranium 
and  myrtle,  to  imitate  the  celebrated  garden  of  the 
original ;  and  one  of  our  members,  who  is  a  stationer, 
having  made  us  a  present  of  a  thick  new  commercial 
ledger,  that  odious  endorsement  has  been  expunged, 
and  the  word  ALBUM  substituted  in  large  letters  of  gold. 
From  this  sacred  volume,  destined  to  preserve  the  con- 
tributions of  our  associates,  I  propose  occasionally  to 
select  such  articles  as  may  stamp  a  value  upon  your 
Miscellany,  and  at  the  same  time  awaken  the  public  to 
a  due  sense  of  the  transcendant  talents  which  have  been 
coalesced,  principally  by  the  writer  of  this  article,  in  the 
composition  of  the  Houndsditch  Literary  Society. 

Young  as  our  establishment  is,  it  is  so  opulent  in 
articles,  that  the  very  fertility  renders  selection  impos- 
sible, and  I  must,  after  all,  open  the  volume  at  random, 
and  trust  to  the  Sortes  Hounditchianae.  It  expands  at 
a  sonnet  by  Mr.  M'Quill,  a  lawyer's  clerk,  possessing,  as 
you  will  observe,  a  perfect  knowledge  of  Latin ;  and 
though  the  subject  be  not  very  dignified,  it  is  redeemed, 
by  his  delicacy  of  handling  and  felicity  of  diction,  from 
that  common-place  homeliness  with  which  a  less  gifted 
bard  would  have  been  apt  to  invest  it.  He  catches 
ideas  from  his  subject  by  letting  it  go,  and  in  a  vein  at 
once  facetious  and  pathetic — but  I  will  detain  you  no 
longer  from  his  beautiful 


114  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 


SONNET   TO    A    FLEA,    ON   SUFFERING   IT   TO   ESCAPE. 

Thou  lightly-leaping,  flitting  Flea !  who  knows 

Thou  art  descended  from  that  sire  who  fell 
Into  the  boiling  water,  when  Sir  Joseph 

Banks  maintain'd  it  had  a  lobster's  shell  ? — 
Here,  Jemmy  Jumps,  thou  mak'st  no  stay  ;  so  fly ; 

Shouldst  thou  rebite — thy  grandsire's  ghost  may  rise, 
Peep  through  the  blanket  of  the  dark,  and  cry 

"Hold,  hold,"  in  vain  : — thou  fall'st  a  sacrifice! 

The  bard  will  weep ;  yes,  fle-bit,  he  will  weep, 
Backbiter  as  thou  art,  to  make  thy  sleep 

Eternal,  thou  who  skippest  now  so  gaily ; 
But  thou'rt  already  old,  if  the  amount 
Of  thine  intercalary  days  we  count, 
For  every  year  with  thee  is  Leap-year. —  Vale  ! 

The  next  unfolding  of  our  richly-stored  repertory 
developes  the  most  important  communication  we  have 
hitherto  received,  being  a  serio-comic  poem  by  Mr. 
Schweitzkofter,  (the  son  of  the  great  sugar-baker  who 
owns  the  Acropolis,)  entitled  "  The  Apotheosis  of  Snip." 
Its  hero  is  a  tailor,  (there's  an  original  idea !) — its  unity 
is  preserved  by  dividing  it  into  nine  cantos  ;  the  super- 
natural machinery  is  conducted  by  Atropos,  who  holds 
the  fatal  shears,  and  Vertumnus,  the  god  of  cabbage ; 
and  the  victim  of  Michaelmasday,  instead  of  the  bird 
Minerva,  is  invoked  to  shed  a  quill  from  its  pinion,  and 
inspire  the  imagination  of  the  poet.  Mr.  Schweitzkofter 
appears  to  me  destined  to  assume  a  rank  superior  to 
Rabelais,  and  at  least  equal  to  Butler ;  but  as  I  propose 
to  make  copious  selections  from  his  facetious  epic,  I 
leave  your  readers  to  decide  what  niche  he  ought  to 


LITERARY    SOCIETY    IN    HOUNDSDITCH.  115 

occupy  in  the  Temple  of  Immortality.  In  the  following 
description  of  morning  in  London,  he  appears  to  have 
Marmion  in  his  eye ;  but  without  any  servile  imitation, 
he  has  contrived  to  unite  an  equally  graphic  fidelity  of 
delineation,  with  a  more  sustained  illustration  and  im- 
pressive sentimentality  than  are  to  be  found  in  the  ad- 
mired original : — 

Day  rose  o'er  Norton  Falgate  high, 
And  Sol,  like  Tom  of  Coventry, 

On  many  a  nude  was  peeping; — 
The  chimneys  smokeless  and  erect, 
And  garret  windows  patch'd  and  check'd, 
The  prentice-rousing  ray  reflect ; 

While  those  within  them  sleeping 

Reflect that  they  must  stretch  their  legs. 

And  bundle  out,  and  stir  their  pegs, 
Or  else,  as  sure  as  eggs  are  eggs, 

Their  masters,  strict  and  wary, 
With  rattling  bells  will  overhaul  'em, 
Or,  may  be,  rise  themselves  to  call  'em 

Up  with  a  sesserary ! — 

Pendant  on  dyer's  pole  afloat, 
Loose  pantaloon  and  petticoat 
Seem  on  each  other's  charms  to  doat, 

Like  lovers  fond  and  bland ; 
Now  swelling  as  the  breezes  rise, 
They  flout  each  other  in  the  skies, 
As  if,  conjoin'd  by  marriage  ties, 

They  fought  for  th'  upper  hand. — 
Beneath  with  dirty  face  and  fell, 
Timing  his  footsteps  to  a  bell, 

The  dustman  saunter'd  slowly, 
Bawling  "Dust-0  !"  with  might  and  main, 
Or  humming  in  a  lower  strain, 

"  Hi — ho,  says  Rowley !" 


116  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 


Now  at  shop- windows  near  and  far 

The  prentice-boys  alert 
Fold  gently  back  the  jointed  bar, 
Then  sink  the  shutter  with  a  jar 

Upon  the  ground  unhurt ; 
While  some,  from  perforated  tin, 
Sprinkle  the  pavement  with  a  grin 

Of  indolent  delight, 
As  poising  on  extended  toe, 
Their  circling  arm  around  they  throw, 
And  on  the  stony  page  below 

Their  frolic  fancies  write. — 
What  poems  praised  and  puff' d,  have  just 
Like  these  kick'd  up  a  mighty  dust, 
But  wanting  the  impressive  power 
To  stamp  a  name  beyond  the  hour, 
Have  soon  become  forgotten,  mute, 
Effaced,  and  trodden  under  foot! — 

In  future  communications  I  shall  send  you  some 
more  tid-bits  from  our  feast  of  intellect;  but,  as  we 
have  a  meeting  this  evening  to  ballot  for  the  admission 
of  Miss  Caustic,  the  apothecary's  daughter  (whom  I 
mean  to  blackball),  I  have  only  time  to  add  that  I  have 
discarded  my  baptismal  name  of  Harriet,  as  inappro- 
priate and  unclassical,  and  shall  henceforth  acknowledge 
no  other  appellation  than  that  of  Hebe  Hoggins. 


THE  HOUNDSDITCH  ALBUM. 

n. 

Second  Letter  from  Miss  Hebe  Hoggins. 

Miss  CAUSTIC,  I  am  sorry  to  say,  is  elected  a  member 
of  our  society,  in  spite  of  my  blackball,  and  has  already 

• 


THE    HOUNDSDITCH    ALBUM.  11 7 

begun  to  gratify  her  envy,  hatred,  and  malice.  Mr. 
Skinner,  the  tanner,  of  Norton  Falgate,  has  undertaken 
a  poem  of  the  most  comprehensive  and  daring  kind, 
entitled  "  The  Creation,"  Avhich  promises  completely  to 
eclipse  Sir  Richard  Blackmore's,  and  of  which  the  head- 
ings of  the  different  chapters  are  already  composed. 
We  are  told,  exclaimed  Miss  Caustic,  after  reading  the 
plan  of  this  noble  work,  that  at  the  creation  every  thing 
was  made  out  of  nothing,  but  it  appears  to  me,  that 
this  author  has  made  nothing  of  every  thing.  In  an- 
swer to  my  observation,  that  Mr.  Schweitzkoffer's  ver- 
ses were  destined  to  immortality,  she  cried  with  a  sneer 
— "  Yes,  because  he  writes  them  to  no  end ;"  and  when 
an  erudite  sonnet  of  Mr.  M'Quill's  was  pronounced  to 
smell  of  the  lamp,  she  peevishly  whispered — "  Ay,  it 
would  smell  of  the  fire  if  it  were  treated  as  it  deserves." 
But  the  chief  object  of  her  illnatured  ridicule  is  a  lite- 
rary phenomenon  whom  I  am  patronizing,  a  g'enius  of 
the.  first  order,  although  at  present  in  the  humble  occu- 
pation of  carman  to  Messrs.  Tierce  and  Sweetman,  gro- 
cers in  WhitechapeL  This  prodigy,  if  I  be  not  grievous- 
ly mistaken,  will  speedily  eclipse  all  the  Bristol  milk- 
womeii,  fanners'  boys,  Ettrick  shepherds,  Northampton- 
shire peasants,  and  Dumfries  stonecutters,  that  ever  burst 
their  bonds,  and  set  themselves  to  work  with  their  heads 
instead  of  their  hands ;  and  yet  the  members  of  our 
club  make  him  the  subject  of  their  jealous  banter  and 
illiberal  sarcasm,  venting  their  misplaced  jokes  upon 
his  employment,  which  constitutes  his  principal  claim 
to  admiration.  Miss  Caustic  observes  that  he  will  be 
able  to  drive  a  good  bargain  with  the  booksellers,  and 
that,  as  he  goes  every  morning  to  take  orders,  he  will 


118  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

be  soon  qualified  for  the  living  of  Horselydown,  or  the 
curacy  of  Whitehall,  in  which  case  he  would  be  quite 
at  home  in  the  Stable-yard ;  but  Mr.  M'Quill  suggests 
that  he  may  be  one  of  Horace's  Carmen  Seculare,  and 
of  course  ineligible  to  spiritual  dignities,  although  by 
the  nails  in  his  shoes  he  seems  already  to  be  of  the  or- 
der of  Pegasus.  This  gentleman  sneeringly  calls  him 
the  philosopher  Descartes,  and  at  other  times  terms  him 
my  Lord  Shaftsbury  ;  observing  that  his  bad  grammar 
is  one  of  his  Characteristics.  Even  Mr.  SchweitzkofFer, 
who  ought  to  have  been  superior  to  such  vulgar  rail- 
lery, anticipates  that  his  wit  will  be  attic,  because  he 
must  always  have  dwelt  in  garrets,  and  have  frequently 
been  to  Grease,  unless  his  wheels  were  scandalously  neg- 
lected. 

My  bosom  beat  high  at  the  interesting  moment 
when  I  first  introduced  him  to  our  Academus  that  he 
might  recite  one  of  his  poems,  and  I  felt  assured  that 
he  would  make  these  jeerers  ashamed  of  their  witti- 
cisms, which,  after  all,  were  nothing  but  a  string  of  mis- 
erable puns.  He  appeared  with  his  whip  in  his  hand, 
to  which  instant  exception  was  taken,  as  completely  re- 
versing the  established  order  of  things,  and  the  custo- 
mary relation  between  poets  and  critics,  it  being  exclu- 
sively reserved  to  Lord  Byron  to  lash  his  reviewers. 
Mr.  M'Quill  accordingly  went  up  Jo  him,  and  exclaiming 
— "Parce,  puer,  stimulis,"  took  the  instrument  from 
him,  and  deposited  it  on  the  table.  George  Crump,  for 
that  is  the  name  of  the  phenomenon,  then  drew  a  pa- 
per from  his  pocket,  and  very  unaffectedly  began  by 
scratching  his  skull,  at  which  an  ignorant  titter  was 
heard,  and  Miss  Caustic,  addressing  herself  to  me,  flip- 


THE    HOUNDSDITCH    ALBUM.  119 

pantly  cried — "  Well,  I  am  agreeably  disappointed,  for 
I  begin  to  think  the  man  really  has  something  in  his 
head."  A  young  lady  by  her  side  hinted  that  he  was 
only  pulling  out  verses  with  his  nails,  as  a  skull,  like  any 
other  territory,  must  be  ploughed  to  make  it  produc- 
tive :  but  I  silenced  these  stupid  sarcasms,  by  informing 
the  sneerers  that  this  species  of  application  is  particu- 
larly recommended  to  authors  by  Aretseus,  and  is  a  re- 
corded poetical  practice  of  such  high  antiquity,  that  it 
is  presumed  to  have  suggested  the  mythological  allegory 
of  Jupiter  wounding  his  head  in  order  to  let  out  Mi- 
nerva. 

Mr.  Crump  having  cleared  his  throat  by  a  loud 
Hem  !  and  spit  upon  the  ground,  at  which  Miss  Caustic 
affected  a  ridiculous  disgust,  began  with  a  loud  voice  to 
read  his 

EVENING,    AN   ELEGY. 

Apollo  now,  Sol's  carman,  drives  his  stud 
Home  to  the  Mews  that's  seated  in  the  West, 

And  Customs'  clerks,  like  him,  through  Thames-street  mud, 
Now  westering  wend,  in  Holland  trowsers  dress'd. 

So  from  the  stands  the  empty  carts  are  dragg'd, 

The  horses  homeward  to  their  stables  go, 
And  mine,  with  hauling  heavy  hogsheads  fagg'd, 

Prepare  to  "taste  the  luxury  of — Wo!" 

Now  from  the  slaughter-houses  cattle  roar, 

Knowing  that  with  the  morn  their  lives  they  yields^ 

And  Mr.  Sweetman's  gig  is  at  the  door, 

To  take  him  to  his  house  in  Hackney  Fields. 

Closed  are  the  gates  of  the  West  India  Docks, 
Rums,  Sugars,  Coffee,  find  at  length  repose, 

And  I,  with  other  careless  carmen,  flocks 

To  the  King's  Head,  the  Chequers,  or  the  Rose. 


120  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

They  smoke  a  pipe — the  shepherd's  pipe  I  wakes, 
Them  skittles  pleases — me  the  Muse  invites, 

They  in  their  ignorance  to  drinking  takes, 

I,  bless'd  with  learning,  takes  a  pen  and  writes. 

Here  there  was  such  an  unmannerly  burst  of  laughter 
that  Mr.  Crump  was  unable  to  proceed,  and  several 
voices  at  once  declared  that  it  would  be  disreputable  to 
the  society  to  admit  such  ungrammatical  compositions 
into  their  Album.  Senseless  objection !  These  are  the 
very  evidences  of  their  genuineness,  and  I  would  no 
more  have  them  removed,  than  would  Martinus  have 
wished  to  scrub  the  precious  aerugo  from  the  brazen 
shield,  and  invest  it  with  a  new  polish.  When  Mr.  Ca- 
pel  Lofft  told  us  that  he  had  merely  corrected  a  few 
verbal  inaccuracies  in  Bloomfield's  early  productions, 
their  charm  was  at  once  broken ;  for  we  knew  not  the 
extent  of  these  revisions,  and  what  was  wonderful  in  a 
peasant  would  have  been  poor  enough  in  a  gentleman. 
As  to  Miss  Caustic's  assertion,  that  Mr.  Crump  inquired 
of  her  whether  Mount  ^Etna  was  to  be  spelt  with  a 
whipthong,  (meaning  diphthong,)  1  believe  it  to  be  a 
spiteful  fabrication ;  and  as  to  her  pretended  regret,  that 
he  would  no  longer  be  able  to  drive  his  cart  straightfor- 
ward, because  I  had  completely  turned  his  head,  I  con- 
sider it  a  mere  impertinence.  To  the  thoughts  and  de- 
scriptive parts  of  his  elegy  no  objections  can  be  urged; 
it  is  obvious  that  he  paints  from  the  life,  and  the  allu- 
sion to  the  regular  appearance  of  his  master's  gig  at  the 
door,  so  perfectly  in  accord  with  the  punctual  habits  of 
that  respectable  tradesman,  is  a  felicity  of  local  truth 
which  must  come  home  to  the  bosom  of  the  most  care- 
less reader.  However,  jealousy  of  a  rising  luminary 


THE    HOUNDSDITCH    ALBUM.  12] 

prevailed ;  the  remainder  of  the  elegy,  declared  to  be 
inadmissible,  has  gone  to  join  the  lost  books  of  Livy 
and  the  missing  comedies  of  Terence,  and  I  esteem  my- 
self happy  to  have  preserved  the  exordium,  which  I 
now  confidently  present  to  a  candid  and  judicious 
public. 

In  casting  my  eye  over  our  Album,  I  venture  to  ex- 
tract the  following  epigram  and  epitaph,  from  the  pen 
of  Mr.  Skinner  the  Tanner : 

Here  lies  my  dear  wife,  a  sad  vixen  and  shrew ; 
If  I  said  I  regretted  her,  I  should  lie  too. 

Were  the  subject  of  this  inscription  a  stranger,  I 
should  scruple  to  circulate  this  couplet ;  but,  as  she  was 
a  particular  friend  of  mamma's,  who  declares  the  char- 
acter to  be  strictly  merited,  I  hesitate  not  to  give  it  pub- 
licity. 

From  Mr.  Schweitzkoffers's  serio-comic  epic,  "  The 
Apotheosis  of  Snip,"  of  which  I  promised  you  further 
extracts,  I  select  for  my  present  communication  the  de- 
scription of  the  hero. 

"  His  lank  and  scanty  hair  was  black, 
His  visage  sallow,  and  his  back 

As  broad  and  strong  as  Plato's ; 
His  grey  eye  on  his  face  so  wan, 
Look'd  like  an  oyster  spilt  upon 

A  dish  of  mash'd  potatoes. 
In  shape  his  phiz  was  like  a  river, 
Which  at  the  mouth  is  broadest  ever. 
His  teeth  were  indurated  sloes ; 
Then  he'd  a  nose — oh,  such  a  nose ! 
It  was  not  certainly  so  bad 
As  that  which  Slawkenbergius  had, 

6 


122  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

Nor  that  recorded  by  the  poet 

Whose  owner  could  riot  reach  to  blow  it ; 

No,  that  was  Ossa  to  a  wart, 

For  this  was  just  as  much  too  short. 

What  was  it  like  ? — why  nothing,  save 

The  mutilated  Sphinx  Egyptian, 
So  flatten'd,  that  it  neither  gave 

Handle  for  blowing  nor  description. 
I  know  not  what  to  call  a  snout 

Described  before  by  no  man, 
But  if  it  had  been  turn'd  about, 

It  would  have  been  a  Roman. 
In  short,  'twas  like  the  knave  of  clubs, 
The  very  snubbiest  of  the  snubs. 

Although  there  was  a  cavity 
Where  his  proboscis  ought  to  be, 
Yet  dirt  beneath  said,  plain  enough — 
'  This  is  the  House  of  Call  for  snuff, 
And  witnesseth  by  this  indenture, 
That  nasal  attributes  are  meant  here.' 
Such  was  his  face — his  form  was  what 
Is  term'd  in  vulgar  parlance — squat. 
Compared  to  him,  so  plain,  so  wan, 

Such  dumpy  legs,  and  bow  knees, 
A  Satyr  was  Hyperion, 

And  Buckhorse  an  Adonis." 

As  conjugal  portraits  should  be  always  hung  up  in 
couples,  I  send  you  the  drawing  of  his  wife,  with  which 
I  shall  conclude  at  present,  in  the  full  assurance  that  the 
delineation  of  so  tempting  a  creature  will  excite  an  in- 
tense curiosity  for  a  further  development  of  her  charms 
in  future  communications. 


THE    CONVERSAZIONE.  123 

"  His  rib — (to  judge  by  length  alone, 
I  ought  to  call  her  his  back-bone,) — 4 

Tall  as  a  Maypole  ran, 
Two  feet  of  which  alarming  space 
Were  dedicated  to  her  face 

(Her  chin  was  full  a  span) ; 
Nay,  no  incredulous  grimaces, 
This  is  the  age  for  length'ning  faces. 
Her  eyes  were  always  running  o'er, 
And  the  two  squinting  balls  they  bore, 
As  if  afraid  of  being  wet, 
Beneath  her  nose's  bridge  would  get. 
So  fond  were  they  of  this  inversion, 

That  they  were  always  in  eclipse, 

Save  when  on  pleasurable  trips 
They  popp'd  out  on  a  short  excursion. 
Her  meagre  sandy  hair  was  frizzly, 
And  her  appearance  gaunt  and  grizzly." 


THE  HOUNDSDITCH  ALBUM. 

Third  Letter  from  Miss  Hebe  Hoggins. 
THE    CONVERSAZIONE. 

CADMUS  had  not  greater  difficulty  in  civilizing  his  Boeo- 
tians, than  I  have  found  in  introducing  a  comparative 
gentility  to  our  domestic  circle  in  Houndsditch,  although 
I  have  finally  succeeded  as  far  as  the  nature  of  the 
obstacles  will  admit.  An  unconditional  assent  has  been 
given  to  three  articles  in  which  I  was  personally  in- 
terested :  I  am  to  put  on  a  white  gown  every  day,  not 
to  go  to  afternoon  church  on  a  Sunday,  and  never  to 
wear  pattens.  My  father,  after  a  severe  struggle,  has 


124  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

consented  to  exchange  his  bobwig  for  a  fashionable 
crop ;  and  my  mother  has  conformed  to  all  the  external 
modifications  I  could  wish,  though  she  remains  incurably 
afflicted  with  that  infirmity  of  speech  to  which  Mrs. 
Malaprop  was  subject.  Upon  questions  of  grammar  we 
are  perpetually  at  variance,  for  I  am  so  often  in  the 
accusative  case  that  Mrs.  Hoggins  cannot  keep  out  of 
the  imperative  mood,  and  not  unfrequently  interrupts 
me  with  exclamations  of  "  Psha !  child,  don't  worret 
one  so ;  I  wonder  you  are  not  ashamed  of  yourself;  I 
knew  nothing  of  genders  and  conjunctions  when  I  was 
your  age,  but  I  thinks  girls  talks  of  every  thing  now-a- 
days."  As  to  mending  her  cacophony  (as  my  Lord 
Duberly  &ays),  it  is  a  hopeless  attempt ;  silence  is  the 
only  corrective,  and  to  this  alternative  I  was  particularly 
anxious  to  reduce  her  last  night,  when  I  obtained  her 
consent  to  my  giving  a  literary  conversazione,  which  I 
am  happy  to  say  passed  off  with  the  greatest  possible 
success  and  6clat. 

Exclusively  of  the  members  of  our  society,  some  of  the 
most  celebrated  characters  in  the  world  of  letters  honoured 
our  coterie.  The  gentleman  who  wrote  the  last  pantomime 
for  one  of  our  minor  theatres,  distinguished  himself  by 
some  excellent  practical  jokes,  which  he  played  off  with 
infinite  adroitness.  Mr.  Grope,  index-maker  to  one  of 
the  first  publishers  in  the  Row,  astonished  us  by  the 
alphabetical  accuracy  of  his  genius ;  Mr.  Grub,  who 
inserted  in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine  a  most  interesting 
account  of  a  Roman  tooth-pick,  dug  up  at  the  mouth  of 
the  Thames,  was  profound  in  antiquarian  research  ;  Miss 
Sphinks,  who  writes  all  the  charades  and  rebuses  for  the 
Lady's  Pocket-book,  captivated  the  company  with  some 


THE    CONVERSAZIONE.  125 

capital  conundrums ;  while  we  were  all  highly  delighted 
with  the  caustic  satire  and  biting  irony  of  Mr.  Fungus, 
a  young  man  of  great  future  celebrity,  who,  not  having 
completed  his  studies,  has  not  yet  attained  the  art  of 
writing  books,  and  therefore  contents  himself  for  the 
present  with  reviewing  them. 

It  is  well  known  that  absence  of  mind  has  been  an 
invariable  accompaniment  of  genius,  and  it  is  therefore 
not  without  complacency  that  I  record  a  ludicrous  in- 
cident arising  from  one  of  those  fits  of  literary  abstrac- 
tion to  which  I  have  been  recently  subject.  While 
presiding  at  the  tea-table  I  inadvertently  substituted  a 
canister  of  my  father's  snuff  for  the  caddy,  infusing 
eight  large  spoonfuls  of  the  best  Lundy  Foot  into  the 
tea-pot ;  nor  did  I  discover  my  mistake  until  the  wry 
faces,  watery  eyes,  and  incessant  sneezing  of  the  com- 
pany, were  explained  by  Papa's  angry  exclamation — 
"Why,  drat  it!  the  girl's  betwitch'd— I'll  be  hang'd  if 
she  hasn't  wasted  half-a-pound  of  my  best  Lundy  Foot 
upon"  these  confounded ."  A  violent  fit  of  sneez- 
ing fortunately  prevented  the  completion  of  the  sentence, 
and  as  I  made  good  haste  to  repair  my  error  by  tender- 
ing him  a  cup  (which  he  will  persist  in  calling  a  dish) 
of  genuine  souchong,  by  the  time  he  had  done  wiping 
his  eyes  and  blowing  his  nose,  he  suffered  himself  to  be 
pacified.  Despatching  as  rapidly  as  possible  this  repast 
of  the  body,  I  hastened  to  the  feast  of  reason,  which  I 
began  by  reciting  a  little  song  of  my  own  composition, 
entitled 

Forgetful  Cupid. 

A  rose  one  morning  Cupid  took, 

And  fill'd  the  leaves  with  vows  of  love, 


126  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

When  zephyr  passing  fann'd  the  book, 
And  wafted  oaths  and  leaves  above. 

Seizing  his  dart,  the  god  then  traced 

Pledges  to  Psyche  in  the  sand ; 
But  soon  the  refluent  tide  effaced 

The  fleeting  record  of  his  hand. 

Quoth  Psyche,   "  From  your  wing  I  '11  take 
Each  morn  a  plume,  and  you  another, 

With  which  new  pledges  we  will  make, 
And  write  love-letters  to  each  other." 

Cries  Cupid,   "  But  if  every  pen 

Be  used  in  writing  oaths  to  stay, 
What  shall  I  do  for  pinions,  when 

I  want  them  both — to  fly  away  ?  " 

I  frankly  admitted  that  I  thought  the  flow  of  these 
verses  somewhat  Moore-ish,  and  observed  that  they 
adapted  themselves  happily  to  one  of  the  Irish  Melo- 
dies ;  when  I  overheard  Miss  Caustic  whisper  to  her 
neighbour,  that  if  I  was  correct  as  to  the  metre,  there 
wanted  nothing  but  different  words  and  sentiments  to 
make  it  really  very  like  Moore.  "Envy  does  merit 
like  its  shade  pursue,"  and  we  all  know  Miss  Caustic's 
amiable  propensities.  If  I  were  to  require  her  to  write 
a  better,  before  she  presumed  to  criticize  my  production, 
I  fancy  she  would  be  condemned  to  a  pretty  long 
silence. 

Mr.  Scribbleton,  a  multifarious  operator  for  the  the- 
atres, particularly  in  getting  up  farces,  next  favoured  us 
with  a  comic  song,  which  he  assured  us  was  the  easiest 
thing  in  the  world  to  compose,  as  it  was  only  to  take 
a  story  from  Joe  Miller,  versify  it,  and  add  a  little  non- 


THE    CONVERSAZIONE.  127 

sense  by  way  of  chorus,  and  he  had  never  known  the 
experiment  fail.  He  relied  confidently  on  a  double  en- 
core for  the  following,  inserted  in  a  forthcoming  piece, 
put  into  the  mouth  of  a  Yorkshireman. 

THE   SMOKY   CHIMNEY. 

Gripe's  chimney  were  smother'd  wi'  soot  and  wi'  smoke, 

But  I  won't  pay  for  sweeping,  he  mutter' d : 
So  he  took  a  live  goose  to  the  top — gave  a  poke, 
And  down  to  the  bottom  it  flutter'd. 
Hiss,  flappity!  hiss,  flappity! 
Flappity,  flappity,  hiss! 

"Wauns !  how  cruel,  cries  one — says  another,  I'm  shock'd — 

Quoth  Gripe,  I'm  asham'd  on't,  adzooks ; 
But  I'll  do  so  no  more.     So  the  next  time  it  smoked, 
He  popp'd  down  a  couple  of  ducks : 
Quaak,  flippity!  quaak,  flappity! 
Flippity,  flappity,  quaak ! 

At  my  earnest  solicitation,  Mr.  Schweitzkoffer  next 
recited  some  farther  extracts  from  "  The  Apotheosis  of 
Snip."  This  hero  is  conducted  to  the  Dandelion  Tea 
Gardens,  formerly  established  in  the  vicinity  of  Mar- 
gate, where  he  delivers  a  political  harangue,  which  a 
part  of  the  company  receive  in  dudgeon,  while  others 
supporting  the  orator,  a  pelting  of  stones  and  general 
combat  ensue,  of  which  the  particulars  are  thus  humor- 
ously detailed. 

Not  with  more  dire  contention  press'd 
The  Greeks  and  Trojans,  breast  to  breast, 
When,  brandish'd  o'er  Patroclus  dead, 
Gleam'd  many  a  sword  and  lance, 


128  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

And  from  their  flashing  contact  shed 

Light  on  his  pallid  countenance, 
Than  did  these  Dandelion  wights, 
Rivals  of  Greek  and  Trojan  knights, 
Who  all  as  thick  and  hot  as  mustard, 
O'er  Snip,  the  prostrate,  fought  and  bluster'd. 

Nor  was  that  combat  so  prolific 

Of  doleful  yells  and  screams  terrific ; 

Tho'  wounded,  scorn'd  to  whine  or  squeak, 

For  Trojan  stout  and  stubborn  Greek, 

While  those  who  were  from  wounds  most  safe 

Did  here  most  clamorously  chafe. 

Mothers,  aunts,  sisters,  nieces,  grannies, 

Always  more  voluble  than  man  is, 

Might  here,  by  their  commingled  gabble, 

Have  stunned  the  chatterers  of  Babel, — 

As  if  their  warriors  made  their  doxies 

Their  vocal  deputies  and  proxies, 

And  by  their  better  halves  confess' d 

The  feelings  they  themselves  suppressed — 

As  when  a  bagpipe's  squeezed  behind, 

It  squeaks  by  pipe  to  which  'tis  join'd. 

Questions,  calls,  cries,  and  interjections, 
Were  intermixed  in  all  directions ; — 
Where's  Jacky,  Harry,  Ned,  and  Billy  ? — 
Come  hither,  Tummas,  or  they'll  kill  ye ! — 
Good  gracious!  where  is  Mr.  Wiggins? 
Mamma,  we  can't  find  uncle  Spriggins. 
Dear  me !  that  lady's  in  a  swound : — 
Well,  ma'am,  you  needn't  tear  one's  gownd. 
Jacky,  do  you  take  care  of  Polly. 
O  heavens !  there's  another  volley ! 
0  Mr.  Stubbs !  what  shall  I  do  ? 
Has  any  lady  found  a  shoe  ? 
Sally's  lace  veil  is  gone,  I  vow — 
I'll  take  my  oath  'twas  here  just  now. 


THE    CONVERSAZIONE.  129 

Why  do  you  stare  at  me,  good  madam  ? 
I  know  no  more  of  it  than  Adam. 
Why  see,  you  thoughtless  little  fool, 
You  popp'd  it  in  your  ridicule. 

0  I  shall  ne'er  survive  the  squeedge  I 
A  smelling-bottle  would  obleege. — 

1  vow  I  feel  quite  atmospheric : — 
Salts!  salts!  she's  in  a  strong  hysteric! 

0  that  a  person  of  my  station 
Should  be  exposed  to  such  flustration ! 
You  haven't,  madam,  seen  Sir  John  ? — 
Where  is  my  stupid  coachman  gone  ? — 
Well,  goodness  me,  and  lackadaisy ! 
I'm  sure  the  people  must  be  crazy. 
What  do  you  mean,  ma'am,  by  this  riot  ? 
Mean  ? — why  you've  almost  poked  my  eye  out. 
Those  parasols  are  monstrous  sharp. — 

Ma,  that's  the  man  as  play'd  the  harp. 
Well,  this  is  Dandelion,  is  it  ? 

1  shan't  soon  make  another  visit. 

George  Crump,  the  inspired  carman,  of  whose  original 
Muse  I  have  already  furnished  interesting  specimens, 
having  completed  a  poem  entitled  "  The  Skittle  Ground," 
with  the  exception  of  the  introductory  stanzas,  applied 
to  me  for  that  difficult  portion  ;  and  as  I  was  very  sure 
that  he  would  never  imitate  the  discourteousness  of  Dr. 
Darwin,  who  received  a  similar  contribution  from  Miss 
Seward,  and  prefixed  it  to  his  Botanic  Garden  without 
the  smallest  acknowledgment,  I  resolved  to  gratify  his 
wish,  running  over  in  my  mind  the  opening  lines  of  the 
most  celebrated  epics.  Virgil's  "  Arma  virumque  cano" 
— Tasso's  "Canto  Parme  pietose" — Ariosto's  "Canto 
le  Donne  e'  i  Cavalieri" — Milton's  "  Of  man's  first  dis- 
obedience, and  the  fruit,"  with  many  other  initiatory 
6* 


130  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 


verses,  occurred  to  my  recollection ;  but  Mr.  Crump, 
having  intimated  at  our  conversazione  that  he  had 
himself  hit  upon  a  happy  exordium,  I  obtained  silence, 
when  he  recited  the  following  four  lines  as  his  proposed 
commencement,  assuring  us  that  the  fact  corresponded 
with  his  statement,  which  he  considered  a  most  auspi- 
cious augury. 

While  playing  skittles,  ere  I  took  my  quid, 
The  Muses  I  invoked  my  work  to  crown ; 

"Descend,  ye  Nine  I"  I  cried, — and  so  they  did, 
For  in  a  trice  I  knock'd  the  nine  pins  down  1 

It  was  my  intention  to  have  furnished  some  farther 
poetical  flowers  from  the  literary  garland  woven  at  this 
interesting  Symposium,  but  the  recollection  of  an  inci- 
dent which  occurred  towards  the  end  of  the  entertain- 
ment actually  paralyzes  my  faculties,  and  makes  the 
pen  flutter  in  my  hand.  My  father,  who  is  passion- 
ately fond  of  whist,  had  stipulated  for  a  table  in  one 
corner  of  the  room  ;  and  for  the  purpose  of  tenanting  it, 
had  invited  four  or  five  humdrum  neighbours,  who 
could  only  be  called  men  of  letters  in  the  postman's 
sense  of  the  phrase,  although  they  were  perfectly  com- 
petent to  go  through  the  automatical  movements  of 
shuffling,  cutting,  and  dealing.  After  the  rubber  had 
been  played  once  over  in  faet,  and  twice  in  subsequent 
discussion,  they  prepared  to  depart,  and  I  heard  the 
announcement  of  their  servant's  arrival  with  a  pleasure 
that  I  could  ill  conceal. — "  Mrs.  Waddle's  maid  and 
umbrella !"  sounded  up  the  stairs,  and  the  corpulent 
old  lady  slowly  obeyed  the  summons.  "  Miss  Clacket's 
pattens  stop  the  way !"  was  the  next  cry ;  and  her 


- 

THE    CONVERSAZIONE.  131 

shrill  voice,  still  audible  from  below,  continued  without 
ceasing  till  the  hall  door  closed  upon  her  clangour. 
"  Mr.  Wheeze's  boy  and  lantern  !"  followed ;  when  the 
worthy  oilman,  having  put  on  two  great  coats,  and  tied 
as  many  handkerchiefs  round  his  throat,  coughed  him- 
self out  of  the  house,  wishing  that  he  was  well  over 
Tower  Hill,  on  his  way  to  Ratcliffe.  Mrs.  Dubb's  shop- 
man same  to  claim  the  last  of  this  quartetto  of  quizzes ; 
and  I  was  just  congratulating  myself  on  the  prospect  of 
renewing  our  feast  of  intellect,  free  from  the  interrup- 
tions of  uncongenial  souls,  when  my  father,  running  up 
to  the  table,  cried  out — "  Well,  now  let's  see  what  card- 
money  they  have  left."  So  saying,  he  looked  under 
one  of  the  candlesticks,  took  up  a  shilling,  bit  it,  rung 
it  upon  the  table,  and  exclaiming,  "  Zounds  !  it's  a  bad 
one — it's  Mrs.  Dubbs's  place — Hallo  !  Mrs.  Dubbs,  this 
won't  do  though,  none  of  your  raps  " — rushed  hastily 
out  of  the  room.  After  two  or  three  minutes  passed 
by  me  in  silent  horror,  he  re-entered,  nearly  out  of 
breath,  ejaculating,  as  he  spun  another  shilling  with  his 
finger  and  thumb — "Ay,  ay,  this  will  do;  none  of 
your  tricks  upon  travellers,  Mrs.  Dubbs  : — a  rank  Brum- 
magem !" 

Miss  Caustic  began  the  titter — but  I  can  describe  no 
farther.  I  fell  into  as  complete  a  state  of  defaillance  as 
the  subject  of  Sappho's  celebrated  ode — my  blood  tingled, 
my  eyes  swam,  "  my  ears  with  hollow  murmurs  rang  ;" 
and  yet  this  fainting  of  the  mind  did  not  afford  any  re- 
lief to  the  shame  and  mortification  that  overwhelmed 
the  too  refined  and  sensitive  bosom  of 

HEBE  HOGGINS. 


132  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 


ANTE  AND  POST-NUPTIAL  JOURNAL. 

"  When  I  said  I  would  die  a  Bachelor,  I  did  not  think  I  should  live  till 
I  were  married. — 

"  A  miracle ! — here's  our  own  hands  againsts  our  hearts." 

MUCH  ADO  ABOUT  NOTHING. 

SOME  people  have  not  the  talent,  some  have  ngt  the 
leisure,  and  others  do  not  possess  the  requisite  industry, 
for  keeping  a  private  diary  or  journal ;  and  yet  there 
is  probably  no  book  which  a  man  could  consult  with 
half  so  much  advantage  as  a  record  of  this  sort,  if  it 
presented  a  faithful  transcript  of  the  writer's  fluctuating 
feelings  and  opinions.  If,  instead  of  comparing  our 
own  mind  with  others,  which  is  the  process  of  common 
reading,  we  were  to  measure  it  with  itself  at  different 
periods,  as  exhibited  in  our  memorandum  book,  we  should 
learn  a  more  instructive  humility,  a  more  touching  lesson 
of  distrust  in  ourselves  and  indulgence  towards  our  neigh- 
bours, than  could  be  acquired  by  poring  over  all  the 
ethics  and  didactics  that  ever  were  penned.  As  a  mere 
psychological  curiosity,  it  must  be  interesting  to  observe 
the  advancement  of  our  own  mind  ;  still  more  so  to 
trace  its  caprices  and  contrasts.  Changes  of  taste  and 
opinion  are  generally  graduated  by  such  slow  and  im- 
perceptible progressions,  that  we  are  unconscious  of  the 
process,  and  should  hardly  believe  that  our  former 
opinions  were  diametrically  opposed  to  our  present,  did 
not  our  faithful  journal  present  them  to  our  eyes  on 
the  incontestable  evidence  of  our  own  handwriting. 
Personal  identity  has  been  disputed  on  account  of  the 
constant  renewal  of  our  component  atoms  :  few  people, 


ANTE    AND    POST-NUPTIAL   JOURNAL.  133 

I  think,  will  be  disposed  to  maintain  the  doctrine  of 
mental  identity,  when  I  submit  to  them  the  following 
alter  et  idem,  being  a  series  of  extracts  from  the  same 
journal,  registered  in  perfect  sincerity  of  heart  at  the 
time  of  each  inscription,  and  the  whole  not  spread  over 
a  wider  space  of  time  than  a  few  consecutive  months. 
Into  the  cause  of  my  perpetual  and  glaring  discrepan- 
cies, it  is  not  my  purpose  to  enter ;  this  is  a  puzzle  that 
may  serve  to  exercise  the  ingenuity  of  your  readers. 

ANTE-NUPTIAL. 

I  hate  Blondes  ;  white-faced  horses  and  women  are 
equally  ugly ;  the  "  blue-eyed  daughters  of  the  North," 
like  the  other  bleached  animals  of  the  same  latitude,  are 
apt  to  be  very  torpid,  sleepy,  and  insipid,  rarely  exhibit- 
ing much  intellect  or  piquancy.  They  remind  one  of 
boiled  mutton  without  caper-sauce,  or  water-gruel  with- 
out wine  or  brandy.  Every  one  thought  the  Albinos 
frightful,  and  yet  people  pretend  to  admire  fair  women. 
Brunettes  are  decidedly  handsomer — what  is  a  snow- 
scene  compared  to  the  rich  and  various  colouring  of  an 
autumnal  landscape !  They  have  a  moral  beauty 
about  them  ;  their  eyes  sparkle  with  intelligence, — they 
possess  fire — vivacity — genius.  A  Brunette  Sawney 
is  as  rare  as  a  tortoise-shell  tom-cat.  There  is,  however, 
a  species  of  complexion  which  nature  accomplishes  in 
her  happier  moods,  infinitely  transcending  all  others. 
I  mean  a  clear  transparent  olive,  through  whose  soft 
and  lucid  surface  the  blood  may  be  almost  seen  cours- 
ing beneath,  while  the  mind  seems  constantly  shining 
through  and  irradiating  the  countenance.  It  is  gene- 


134  GAIETIES    AND    GRAV1T1KS. 

rally  found  accompanied  by  dark  silky  hair,  small  regu- 
lar features,  and  a  sylph-like  form  approximating  some- 
what to  the Lascar  ? — No.  To  the  Spanish  ? — No : 

but  to  the  description  which  Ovid  gives  us  of  Sappho, 
and  to  the  species  of  beauty  that  imagination  assigns  to 
the  fascinating  Cleopatra.  My  dear  Julia  exactly  rep- 
resents this  kind  of  loveliness.  I  am  certainly  a  lucky 
fellow  in  having  secured  the  promise  of  her  hand.  She 
possesses  animation  and  briskness,  without  any  of  that 
unamiable  tendency  to  domineer  which  so  many  lively 
females  exhibit,  and  has  a  good  portion  of  reading  and 
talent  without  affecting  the  blue-stocking.  It  is  a  bad 
thing  to  be  over-wifed,  like  poor  Frank  Newhenham, 
who  has  nothing  to  do  with  the  laws  of  his  own  house 
but  to  obey  them.  Better  to  have  no  appointment 
than  get  a  place  under  petticoat  government. 

Determined  on  sending  in  my  resignation  to  Brookes's 
and  Arthur's,  as  well  to  the  Alfred  and  Union.  Hercu- 
les gave  up  his  club  when  he  married  Dejanira,  and  all 
good  husbands  should  follow  his  example.  The  increase 
of  these  establishments  a  bad  sign  :  our  wives  and  ho- 
tel-keepers must  associate  together,  for  they  seem  to  be 
deserted  by  the  rest  of  the  world.  Astonishing  that 
men  should  prefer  politics  and  port-wine  in  a  club-room, 
to  the  converse  of  a  beautiful  woman  at  home.  Sub- 
stituting Julia  for  Lesbia,  I  am  ready  to  exclaim  with 
Catullus,  in  his  imitation  of  Sappho, 

Ille  mi  par  esse  Deo  videtur, 
Hie  si  fas  est,  snperare  Divos, 
Qui  sedens  adversns  identidem  te 

Spectat,  et  audit 
Dulce  ridentem. 


ANTE    AND    POST-NUPTIAL    JOURNAL.  135 

Saw  Lady  Madeleine  at  the  Opera,  looking  fat,  florid, 
and  Sphynx-like.  It  is  the  fashion  to  call  her  a  fine 
creature — so  is  the  prize  ox :  for  the  modesty  which 
others  assign  to  her,  read  mauvaise  honte.  If  people 
admire  by  the  square  foot,  they  can  hardly  over-rate  her 
merits  ;  but  for  my  own  part  I  would  rather  marry  a 
Patagonian  milk-maid. 

Went  to  Richmond — sate  upon  the  grass  in  front 
of  the  house  formerly  belonging  to  Whitshed  Keene, 
and  gazed  upon  the  moon,  thinking  all  the  while  of 
Julia,  until  I  became  so  melancholy,  romantic,  and 
poetical,  as  actually  to  perpetrate  the  following 

STANZAS. 

Sweet  is  the  sadness  of  the  night, 

And  dear  her  silent  reign, 
And  pleasant  is  her  mournful  light, 

To  those  who  love  in  vain. 

To  yon  pale  moon  that  o'er  me  soars, 

Which  dim  through  tears  I  see, 
E'en  now  perchance  my  Julia  pours 

Her  fervent  vows  for  me. 

The  breeze,  whose  plaints  from  yonder  glade 

In  whispering  murmurs  rise, 
Perchance  around  her  lips  has  play'd, 

And  breathes  my  Julia's  sighs. 

By  day  her  fancied  presence  seems 

To  chase  each  tear  away, — 
Then  stay  to  soothe  my  troubled  dreams — 

Stay,  dearest  vision,  stay  ! 


136  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

Why  I  should  describe  myself  as  loving  in  vain,  and 
looking  through  tears,  making  Julia,  who  was  that  night 
engaged  to  a  ball  at  Almack's,  sympathize  in  my  dis- 
tress, may  seem  odd ;  but  I  recollected  that  all  great 
poets  are  melancholy,  and  that  "  the  course  of  true  love 
never  does  run  smooth,"  when  you  are  soliloquizing  the 
moon.  I  protest  I  think  the  lines  very  melifluous  and 
heart-rending,  and  altogether  LadyVMagazinish. — My 
darling  Julia  tells  me  she  doats  upon  poetry  ;  so  do  I, 
especially  the  elegiac,  when  hit  off  by  a  master's  hand. 
Mem. :  show  her  my  verses  to-morrow. 

My  dear  Julia,  I  am  happy  to  find,  is  equally  fond 
of  the  country,  and  devoted  to  music  and  domestic 
pleasures.  In  fact,  her  taste  and  opinions  seem  gene- 
rally to  agree  with  mine.  She  is  certainly  a  woman  of 
superior  good  sense.  Delighted  to  observe  that  she  is 
so  much  pleased  with  my  rattling  friend  Compton,  and 
thinks  Harvey  a  gentlemanly  good-looking  man.  It  is 
always  pleasant  when  one's  bachelor  companions  prove 
acceptable  to  one's  wife. 

Was  introduced  to  my  beloved  Julia's  uncle,  Mr. 
Jackson,  a  nabob,  who  gave  me  a  receipt  for  bile,  and 
told  me  a  famous  story  of  a  tiger -hunt  at  Calcutta ; — a 
pleasant  chatty  man.  His  wife  rather  in  the  style  of 
the  Hottentot  than  the  Medici  Venus,  but  genteel  in  her 
manners ;  the  three  daughters  pleasing  interesting  girls, 
and  one  of  them  good-looking. 

Sent  Nimrod  to  TattersaPs,  as  I  mean  to  give  up 
hunting.  Bad  enough  for  bachelors  to  risk  their  necks 
by  galloping  after  a  poor  inoffensive  hare ;  preposter- 
ous in  married  men.  Sold  my  Joe  Manton  and  patent 
percussion  gun  to  Compton,  as  I  flatter  myself  I  shall 


ANTE    AND    POST-NUPTIAL    JOURNAL.  137 

be  better  employed  in  the  society  of  my  amiable  Julia, 
than  in  wading  through  mud  and  snow  to  destroy  par- 
tridges and  pheasants.  Besides,  going  out  with  a  friend 
upon  these  occasions  by  no  means  implies  your  return- 
ing with  him,  as  he  is  very  apt  to  miss  the  birds  and 
shoot  you.  If  you  go  alone  two  alternatives  await  you  : 
in  getting  over  a  style  a  twig  unfortunately  catches  the 
lock  of  your  piece,  and  lodges  its' contents  in  your  kid- 
neys ;  or  your  favourite  spaniel  makes  a  point — of  put- 
ting his  paw  upon  your  trigger,  and  in  the  ardour  of 
his  fondling  blows  out  your  brains.  Sportsmen  should 
really  devise  some  new  mode  of  death  ;  these  are  quite 
hackneyed.  Julia  much  pleased  when  I  told  her  my 
intentions ;  she  particularly  objected  to  hunting,  on  ac- 
count of  its  expense.  She  is  decidedly  economical, 
which  is  a  great  comfort. 

Julia  being  engaged  with  her  uncle  Jackson,  I  spent 
the  evening  alone  by  my  own  fire-side ;— very  bilious 
and  hippish.  Dr.  Johnson  is  quite  right ; — a  married 
man  has  many  cares,  but  a  single  one  has  no  pleasures. 
What  a  solitary  forlorn  wretch  is  the  latter  in  misery 
and  sickness !  Some  years  ago  there  was  an  account 
in  the  papers  of  a  respectable  old  bachelor,  in  Gray's 
Inn,  who  after  several  months'  disappearance  was  found 
dead  in  his  chambers,  half  eaten  up  by  bluebottle  flies. 
Conceive  the  idea  of  a  man's  being  forgotten  by  his 
friends  and  remembered  by  the  bluebottles !  1  never 
see  one  of  these  flying  Benedict-eaters  without  wishing 
myself  fairly  married  ;  their  buzzing  in  my  ear  seems  to 
echo  the  Epithalamium  of  Manlius  to  my  Julia's  name- 
sake— 


138  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

lo,  Hymen  Hymenaee,  io  ! 
lo,  Hymen  Hymenaee ! 

Next  week  my  adorable  Julia  is  to  become  mine  for 
ever,  and  if  I  know  any  thing  of  myself,  Jack  Egerton 
will  be  the  happiest  man  in  the  world.  Can't  say  I 
like  the  ceremonial — rather  lugubrious  and  solemn. 
Parents  looking  dolorous — sisters  and  cousins  crying — 
bride  ready  to  faint — nobody  comfortable  but  the  cler- 
gyman and  clerk.  Compton  says,  it  is  very  like  going 
to  be  hanged,  and  observes,  that  there  is  only  the  differ- 
ence of  an  aspirate  between  altar  and  halter, — a  bad 
joke,  like  all  the  other  sorry  witticisms  launched  against 
women  and  marriage.  Satirists  of  the  sex  are  either  dis- 
appointed men,  or  fools,  or  mere  inventors  of  calumny. 
Pope  confesses,  in  the  advertisement  to  his  Satires,  that 
none  of  the  characters  are  drawn  from  real  life.  He 
that  lives  single,  says  St.  Paul,  does  well,  but  he  that 
marries  does  better.  St.  Paul  was  a  wise  man. 

POST-NUPTIAL. 

Heigho ! — three  months  elapsed  without  a  single 
entry  in  my  journal.  What  an  idle  fellow  I  have  be- 
come, or  rather  what  a  busy  one,  for  I  have  been  in  a 
perpetual  bustle  ever  since  the  expiration  of  the  honey- 
moon. By  the  by,  nothing  can  be  more  ill-judged  than 
our  custom  of  dedicating  that  period  to  rural  sequestra- 
tion, that  we  may  do  nothing  but  amuse  one  another, 
while  it  generally  ends  in  our  tiring  one  another  to 
death.  Remember  reading  of  a  pastrycook,  who  al- 
ways gave  his  apprentices  a  surfeit  of  tarts,  when  first 
they  came,  to  insure  their  subsequent  indifference. 


ANTE    AND    POST-NUPTIAL    JOURNAL.  139 

Very  well  for  him,  but  a  dangerous  conjugal  experi- 
ment. Godwin  mentions  in  his  Memoirs  of  Mary, 
that  they  alienated  themselves  from  one  another  every 
morning,  that  instead  of  mutually  exhausting  their 
minds,  they  might  have  almost  always  something  new 
to  impart,  by  which  means  they  met  with  pleasure  and 
parted  with  regret.  Most  people  reverse  the  process. 
In  England,  if  a  man  is  seen  with  his  wife  perpetually 
dangling  on  his  arm,  it  is  a  dispensation  from  all  other 
observances  ;  let  him  do  what  he  will,  he  has  a  reputa- 
tion for  all  the  cardinal  virtues.  In  France  it  is  the  ex- 
treme of  mauvais  ton.  Many  hints  might  be  advanta- 
geously borrowed  from  our  Gallic  neighbours. 

Tired  to  death  of  people  wishing  one  joy  :  there  is 
an  impertinence  about  the  salutation ;  it  conveys  a 
doubt  at  best,  and,  as  some  people  express  themselves, 
looks  very  like  a  sneer.  Received  seven  epistolary  con- 
gratulations, which,  from  their  great  similarity  of  phrase 
and  sentiment,  I  suspect  to  be  all  plagiarisms  from  the 
Polite  Letter- Writer.  Paid  them  in  their  own  coin  by 
writing  a  circular  reply. 

Sat  next  to  Lady  Madeleine  at  a  dinner-party.  What 
a  remarkably  fine  woman  she  is  ! — quite  majestic,  after 
one  has  been  accustomed  to  dwarfs  and  puppets.  After 
all,  there  is  nothing  so  feminine  and  lovely  as  a  fair 
complexion,  especially  when  accompanied  with  that 
Corinthian  air — that  natural  nobility  (if  I  may  so  ex- 
press myself),  which  at  once  stamps  the  high-born  and 
high-bred  woman  of  quality.  If  her  hand  alone  were 
shown  to  me,  I  should  swear  that  it  belonged  to  a  person 
of  rank.  A  complexion  of  this  sort  testifies  the  station 
of  its  possessor.  One  sees  Olives  and  Brunettes  trund- 


140  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

ling  mops  and  crying  mackerel  ;  but  no  menial  ever 
possessed  Lady  Madeleine's  soft  and  delicate  tints.  What 
a  charm,  too,  in  that  gentle  and  modest  demeanour, 
forming  so  happy  a  medium  between  rustic  reserve  and 
London  flippancy! 

Finding  ourselves  alone  and  the  time  hanging  rather 
heavy,  I  began  reading  aloud  Milton's  Lycidas  ;  but, 
before  I  had  accomplished  three  pages,  observed  Julia 
fast  asleep  !  Waked  her,  to  remind  her  of  her  former 
declaration  that  she  doted  upon  poetry.  "  So  I  do," 
was  the  reply,  "  but  I  like  something  funny  :  have  you 
got  Peter  Pindar,  or  Dr.  Syntax's  Tour  ?"  Heavens  ! 

what  a  taste  ! Requested  her  to  play  me  one  of 

Haydn's  canzonets  :  found  her  harp  was  thrown  aside 
with  seven  broken  strings,  and  the  piano  so  much  out 
of  tune  that  she  had  not  touched  it  for  weeks.  Am 
assured,  however,  that  she  is  passionately  fond  of  mu- 
sic— when  it  is  played  by  any  one  else  ;  on  the  faith  of 
which  I  subscribed  to  six  concerts,  and  my  wife  actually 
went  to  one.  By  love  of  the  country  I  learn  that  she 
means  Bath,  Brighton,  and  Cheltenham,  in  their  respec- 
tive seasons  ;  but  as  to  the  rural,  the  romantic,  and  the 
picturesque,  she  protests  that  she  has  no  particular  pen- 
chant for  "  a  cow  on  a  common,  or  a  goose  on  a  green," 
and  is  even  uninfluenced  by  the  combined  attractions  of 
"  doves,  dung,  ducks,  dirt,  dumplings,  daisies,  and  daf- 
fidowndillies."  Flippancy  is  not  wit.  Sorry  to  find  a 
difference  in  our  sentiments  upon  many  essential  points, 
and  compelled  to  acknowledge  that  she  is  by  no  means 
a  woman  of  that  invariable  good  sense  for  which  I  had 
given  her  credit. 

Compton  and  Harvey  have  quite  become  strangers. 


ANTE    AND    POST-NUPTIAL    JOURNAL.  141 

Could  not  understand  the  meaning — questioned  the 
former  upon  the  subject,  when  he  asked  me  if  I  recol- 
lected one  of  the  Miseries  of  Human  Life — "  Going  to 
dine  with  your  friend  upon  the  strength  of  a  general 
invitation,  and  finding  by  the  countenance  of  his  wife 
you  had  much  better  have  waited  for  a  particular  one. 
I  don't  mind  a  cold  dinner,"  he  continued,  "  but  I  can- 
not stand  cold  looks  ;  and  Harvey  is  too  much  in  re- 
quest to  go  where  he  is  considered,  even  by  silent  inti- 
mation, as  l  un  de  trop.' "  Expostulated  with  Mrs. 
Egerton  upon  this  subject,  when  she  denied  the  fact  of 
any  incivility,  but  confessed  her  wonder  that  I  should 
associate  with  such  a  rattling  fellow  as  Compton,  who 
had  nothing  in  him.  Nothing  in  him  ! — no  more  has 
soda  water;  its  attraction  consists  in  its  effervescence 
and  volatility.  Compton  is  an  honest  fellow,  and  loves 
good  eating  and  drinking.  He  has  vivacity,  edacity,  and 
bibacity  ; — what  the  deuce  would  she  have  ? 

By  the  by,  those  odious  Jacksons  positively  haunt 
the  house.  It  is  lucky  the  old  Nabob  is  worth  money, 
for  he  is  worth  nothing  else.  The  bore  ! — he  has  now 
given  me  five  different  receipts  for  bile,  and  I  have  been 
six  times  in  at  the  death  of  that  cursed  tiger  that  he 
shot  near  Calcutta.  Another  dip  would  have  made  his  fat 
wife  a  negress.  Let  no  man  offer  to  hand  her  down  stairs 
unless  he  can  carry  three  hundred  w eight,  and  listen  to 
a  ten  minutes'  wheezing.  Absurd  to  wear  two  diamond 
necklaces,  where  not  one  of  them  could  be  seen  for  her 
three  double  chins.  The  daughter,  whom  they  call 
handsome  (!  !  !)  squints ;  the  clever  one  is  a  Birming- 
ham blue-stocking ;  the  youngest  is  good-tempered,  but 
quite  a  fool.  As  to  "  dear  cousin  Patty,"  she  seems  to 


142  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

have  taken  up  her  residence  with  us,  though  she  has 
nothing  to  do  but  flatter  my  wife  and  wash  the  lap-dog. 
I  thought  it  was  against  the  canon  law  to  marry  a  whole 
family. 

Shooting  season — nothing  to  do  at  home — devilish 
dull — Compton  drove  me  in  his  tilbury  to  Hertford- 
shire— lent  me  my  old  Joe  Manton — never  shot  better 
in  my  life — missed  nothing.  Accepted  an  invitation 
from  Sir  Mark  Manners  to  pass  a  fortnight  with  him  in 
Norfolk,  upon  the  strength  of  which  bought  a  new  pa- 
tent percussion  gun,  and  promise  myself  famous  sport. 
Got  a  letter  from  Harvey,  at  Melton — the  hunt  was 
never  kept  up  in  such  prime  style ; — ran  down  just  for 
one  day — so  much  delighted  that  I  purchased  a  famous 
hunter  for  only  three  hundred  guineas,  and  was  out 
every  morning  till  it  was  time  to  start  across  the  coun- 
try for  Sir  Mark's  shooting  box  in  Norfolk. 

Returned  from  Sir  Mark's — never  spent  a  pleasanter 
fortnight  in  my  life — famous  preserves — my  gun  did 
wonders.  Mrs.  Egerton  thought  proper  to  object  to  the 
great  expense  of  my  recommencing  a  hunting-establish- 
ment, while  she  tormented  me  to  deatli  at  the  same 
time  to  give  her  a  box  at  the  Opera.  In  all  that  regards 
my  amusements,  I  cannot  accuse  her  of  any  want  of 
economy ;  but  in  every  thing  that  has  reference  to  her 
own  freaks  and  fancies,  she  is  perfectly  regardless  of 
cost.  She  is  of  the  Hudibrastic  quality,  and 

"  Compounds  for  sins  she  is  inclined  to, 
By  damning  those  she  has  no  mind  to." 

Addison  observes  in  the  205th  Number  of  the  Spec- 
tator, "  that  the  palest  features  look  the  most  agreeable 


ANTE    AND    POSTNUPTIAL    JOURNAL.  143 

in  white ;  that  a  face  which  is  overflushed  appears  to 
advantage  in  the  deepest  scarlet,  and  that  a  dark  com- 
plexion is  not  a  little  alleviated  by  a  black  hood :" — 
which  he  explains,  by  observing  that  a  complexion, 
however  dark,  never  approaches  to  black,  or  a  pale  one 
to  white,  so  that  their  respective  tendencies  are  modified 
by  being  compared  with  their  extremes.  Notwithstand- 
ing this  authority,  my  wife,  whose  skin  is  almost  Moor- 
ish, persists  in  wearing  a  white  hat,  which  gives  her  the 
look  of  a  perfect  Yarico.  Declined  walking  out  with 
her  this  morning  unless  she  changed  it,  which  she  ob- 
stinately refused,  after  wrangling  with  me  for  half  an 
hour ;  and,  as  I  was  determined  to  exercise  my  marital 
authority,  I  went  out  without  her.  Is  it  not  astonish- 
ing that  a  person  of  the  smallest  reflection  or  good 
sense  should  stubbornly  contend  about  such  a  mere 
trifle  ?  She  has  a  monstrous  disposition  to  domineer, 
which  I  am  resolved  to  resist. 

Met  Harvey  in  my  promenade,  who  told  me,  that 
as  there  had  been  no  committee  at  Brookes's  or  Arthur's 
since  I  withdrew  my  name,  there  was  still  time  to  rein- 
state it,  which  he  kindly  undertook  to  do  for  me.  Hur- 
ried on  myself  to  the  'Alfred  and  Union,  and  got  there 
just  in  time  to  take  down  the  notices.  How  excessively 
fortunate !  Acting  the  Hermit  in  London  won't  do  :  I 
hate  affectation  of  any  sort.  Long  evenings  at  home 
I  hate  still  worse.  One  must  have  some  resources ;  for 
the  romance  of  life,  like  all  other  romances,  ends  with 
marriage.  The  Rovers,  Sir  Harry  Wildairs,  Lovebys, 
and  other  wild  gallants  of  the  old  comedies,  never  ap- 
pear upon  the  stage  after  this  ceremony ;  their  freaks 
are  over — their  "occupation's  gone" — they  are  pre- 


144  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

sumed  to  have  become  too  decent  and  dull  for  the  dra- 
matist. Their  loves  were  a  lively  romance ;  their  mar- 
riage is  flat  history. — The  uncertainty  of  Bachelorship 
unquestionably  gives  a  charm  to  existence  ; — a  married 
man  has  nothing  farther  to  expect ;  he  must  sit  down 
quietly,  and  wait  for  death.  A  single  one  likes  to  spec- 
ulate upon  his  future  fate ;  he  has  something  to  look 
forward  to,  and  while  he  is  making  up  his  mind  to  what 
beauty  he  shall  offer  his  hand,  he  roves  amid  a  harem 
of  the  imagination,  a  sort  of  mental  Potygamist.  A 
man  may  be  fortunate  in  wedlock,  but  if  he  is  not 
I  i  i 

I  certainly  thought  my  wife  had  some  smartness  of 
conversation,  but  find  that  it  only  amounts  to  a  petulant 
dicacity.  Swift  explains  the  process  by  which  I  was 
deceived  when  he  says, — "  A  very  little  wit  is  valued 
in  a  woman,  as  we  are  pleased  with  a  few  words  spoken 
plain  by  a  parrot."  Perhaps  he  solves  the  difficulty 
better  when  he  adds  in  another  place, — "  Women  are 
like  riddles  ;  they  please  us  no  longer  when  once  they 
are  known." 

Told  of  a  bon-mot  launched  by  my  friend  Taylor  on 
the  occasion  of  my  nuptials.  Old  Lady  Dotterel  ex- 
claiming that  she  feared  I  had  been  rather  wild,  and 
was  glad  to  hear  I  was  going  to  be  married — "  So  am  I 
too,"  cried  Taylor  ;  but,  after  a  moment's  consideration, 
added  in  a  compassionate  tone, — "  although  I  don't 
know  why  I  should  say  so,  poor  fellow,  for  he  never 

did  me  any  harm  in  his  life." Went  to  the  play — 

one  of  Reynold's  comedies. — Used  to  laugh  formerly  at 
the  old  fellows  reply,  when  he  is  told  that  bachelors  are 
useless  fellows,  and  ought  to  be  taxed — "  So  we  ought, 


THE    LIBRARY.  145 


Ma'am,  for  it  is  quite  a  luxury." — Admitted  the  fact, 
but  could  not  join  in  the  roar. — Not  a  bad  joke  of  the 
amateur,  who,  on  examining  the  Seven  Sacraments 
painted  by  Poussin,  and  criticizing  the  picture  of  Mar- 
riage, exclaimed — "  I  find  it  is  difficult  to  make  a  good 
marriage  even  in  painting."  Maitre  Jean  Piccard  tells 
us,  that  when  he  was  returning  from  the  funeral  of  his 
wife,  doing  his  best  to  look  disconsolate,  and  trying  dif- 
ferent expedients  to  produce  a  tear,  such  of  the  neigh- 
bours as  had  grown-up  daughters  and  cousins  came  to 
him,  and  kindly  implored  him  not  to  be  inconsolable, 
as  they  could  give  him  another  wife.  Six  weeks  after, 
says  Maitre  Jean,  I  lost  my  cow,  and  though  I  really 
grieved  upon  this  occasion,  not  one  of  them  offered  to 

give  me  another. St.  Paul  may  have  been  a  very 

wise  man  in  his  dictum  about  marriage  ;  but  he  is  still 
wiser  who  contents  himself  with  doing  well,  and  leaves 
it  to  others  to  do  better. 


THE  LIBRARY. 

"  Books,  like  men  their  authors,  have  but  one  way  of  coming  into  the 
world  ;  but  there  are  ten  thousand  to  go  out  of  it,  and  return  no  more." 

TALE  OF  A  TUB. 


LET  us  take  off  our  hats  and  march  with  reverent 
steps,  for  we  are  about  to  enter  into  a  library — that  in- 
tellectual heaven  wherein  are  assembled  all  those  mas- 
ter-spirits of  the  world  who  have  achieved  immortality  ; 
those  mental  giants,  who  have  undergone  their  apo- 
theosis, and  from  the  shelves  of  this  literary  temple  still 


146  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

hold  silent  communion  with  their  mortal  votaries.  Here, 
as  in  one  focus,  are  concentrated  the  rays  of  all  the 
great  luminaries  since  Cadmus,  the  inventor  of  letters, 
discovered  the  noble  art  of  arresting  so  subtle,  volatile, 
and  invisible  a  thing  as  Thought,  and  imparted  to  it  an 
existence  more  durable  than  that  of  brass  and  marble. 
This  was,  indeed,  the  triumph  of  mind  over  matter ;  the 
lighting  up  of  a  new  sun ;  the  formation  of  a  moral 
world  only  inferior  to  the  Almighty  fiat  that  produced 
Creation.  But  for  this  miraculous  process  of  eternizing 
knowledge,  the  reasoning  faculty  would  have  been  be- 
stowed upon  man  in  vain  :  it  would  have  perished  with 
the  evanescent  frame  in  which  it  was  embodied ;  human 
experience  would  not  extend  beyond  individual  life  ;  the 
wisdom  of  each  generation  would  be  lost  to  its  successor, 
and  the  world  could  never  have  emerged  from  the  dark- 
ness of  barbarism.  Books  have  been  the  great  civilizers  of 
men.  The  earliest  literature  of  every  country  has  been 
probably  agricultural ;  for  subsistence  is  the  most  press- 
ing want  of  every  new  community  ;  abundance,  when 
obtained,  would  have  to  be  secured  from  the  attacks 
of  less  industrious  savages ;  hence  the  necessity  for  the 
arts  of  war,  for  eloquence,  hymns  of  battle,  and  funeral 
orations.  Plenty  and  security  soon  introduce  luxury 
and  refinement ;  leisure  is  found  for  writing  and  read- 
ing ;  literature  becomes  ornamental  as  well  as  useful ; 
and  poets  are  valued,  not  only  for  the  delight  they  af- 
ford, but  for  their  exclusive  power  of  conferring  a  celeb- 
rity  more  durable  than  all  the  fame  that  can  be  achieved 
by  medals,  statues,  monuments,  and  pyramids,  or  even 
by  the  foundation  of  cities,  dynasties,  and  empires. 
This  battered,  soiled,  and  dog's-eared  Homer,  so 


THE    LIBRARY.  14Y 


fraught  with  scholastic  reminiscences,  is  the  most  sub- 
lime illustration  of  the  preservative  power  of  poetry 
that  the  world  has  yet  produced.  Nearly  three  thou- 
sand years  have  elapsed  since  the  body  of  the  author 
reverted  to  dust,  and  here  is  his  mind,  his  thoughts,  his 
very  words,  handed  down  to  us  entire,  although  the  lan- 
guage in  which  he  wrote  has  for  many  ages  become 
silent  upon  the  earth.  This  circumstance,  however,  is 
rather  favourable  to  endurance  ;  for  a  classic  poem,  like 
the  Phcenix,  rises  with  renewed  vigour  from  the  ashes  of 
its  language.  He  who  writes  in  a  living  tongue,  casts  a 
flower  upon  a  running  stream,  which  buoys  it  up  and 
carries  it  swimmingly  forward  for  a  time,  but  the  rapid- 
ity of  its  flight  destroys  its  freshness  and  withers  its 
form  ;  when,  the  beauties  of  its  leaves  being  no  longer 
recognizable,  it  soon  sinks  unnoticed  to  the  bottom.  A 
poem  in  a  dead  language  is  the  same  flower  poised  upon 
a  still,  secluded  fountain,  whose  unperturbed  waters 
gradually  convert  it  into  a  petrifaction,  unfading  and 
immutable.  To  render  Achilles  invulnerable  he  was 
dipped  into  the  river  of  the  dead,  and  he  who  would 
arm  his  work  against  the  scythe  of  Time  must  clothe  it 
in  an  extinct  language.  When  the  Chian  bard  wan- 
dered through  the  world  reciting  his  unwritten  verses, 
which  then  existed  only  as  a  sound,  Thebes  with  its 
hundred  gates  flourished  in  all  its  stupendous  magnifi- 
cence, and  the  leathern  ladies  and  gentlemen  who  grin 
at  us  from  glass  cases,  under  the  denomination  of  mum- 
mies, were  walking  about  its  streets,  dancing  in  its  halls, 
or  perhaps  prostrating  themselves  in  its  temples  before 
that  identical  Apis,  or  Ox-deity,  whose  thigh-bone  was 
rummaged  out  of  the  sarcophagus  hi  the  great  pyra- 


148  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

mid,  and  transported  to  England  by  Captain  Fitzcla- 
rence.  Three  hundred  years  rolled  away  after  the  Iliad 
was  composed,  before  the  she-wolf  destined  to  nourish 
Romulus  and  Remus  prowled  amid  the  wilderness  of 
the  seven  hills,  whereon  the  marble  palaces  of  Rome 
were  subsequently  to  be  founded.  But  why  instance 
mortals  and  cities  that  have  sprung  up  and  crumbled 
into  dust,  since  an  immortal  has  been  called  into  exist- 
ence in  the  intervening  period  ?  Cupid,  the  god  of 
love,  is  nowhere  mentioned  in  the  works  of  Homer, 
though  his  mother  plays  so  distinguished  a  part  in  the 
poem,  and  so  many  situations  occur  where  he  would  in- 
fallibly have  been  introduced,  had  he  been  then  enrolled 
in  the  celestial  ranks.  It  is  obvious,  therefore,  that  he 
was  the  production  of  later  mythologists ;  but,  alas ! 
the  deity  and  his  religion,  the  nations  that  worshipped 
him,  and  the  cities  where  his  temples  were  reared,  are 
all  swept  away  in  one  common  ruin.  Mortals  and  im- 
mortals, creeds  and  systems,  nations  and  empires, — all 
are  annihilated  together.  Even  their  heaven  is  no  more. 

o 

Hyaenas  assemble  upon  Mount  Olympus  instead  of  dei 
ties  :  Parnassus  is  a  desolate  waste  ;  and  the  silence  of 
that  wilderness,  once  covered  with  laurel  groves  and 
gorgeous  fanes,  whence  Apollo  gave  out  his  oracles,  is 
now  only  broken  by  the  occasional  crumbling  of  some 
fragment  from  the  r6cky  summit  of  the  two-forked  hill, 
scaring  the  wolf  from  his  den  and  the  eagle  from  her 
cliff. 

And  yet  here  is  the  poem  of  Homer  fresh  and 
youthful  as  when  it  first  emanated  from  his  brain  ;  nay, 
it  is  probably  in  the  very  infancy  of  its  existence,  only 
in  the  outset  of  its  career,  and  the  generations  whom  it 


THE    LIBRARY.  149 


has  delighted  are  as  nothing  compared  to  those  whom 
it  is  destined  to  charm  in  its  future  progress  to  eternity. 
Contrast  this  majestic  and  immortal  fate  with  that  of  the 
evanescent  dust  and  clay,  the  poor  perishing  frame 
whose  organization  gave  it  birth ;  and  what  an  additional 
argument  does  it  afford,  that  the  soul  capable  of  such 
sublime  efforts  cannot  be  intended  to  revert  to  the 
earth  with  its  miserable  tegument  of  flesh.  That  which 
could  produce  immortality  may  well  aspire  to  its  enjoy- 
ment. 

Ah  !  if  the  "  learned  Thebans,"  of  whom  we  have 
made  mention,  had  thought  of  embalming  their  minds 
instead  of  their  bodies ;  if  they  had  committed  their 
intellect  to  paper,  instead  of  their  limbs  to  linen  ;  and 
come  down  to  us  bound  up  in  vellum  with  a  steel  clasp, 
instead  of  being  coffined  up  in  sycamore  with  an  iron 
screw,  how  much  more  perfect  would  have  been  the  post- 
humous preservation,  and  how  much  more  delightful  to 
the  literary  world  to  have  possessed  an  epic  Thebaid 
from  an  ancient  Theban,  than  from  so  affected  and  tur- 
gid a  Roman  as  Statius  !  Let  us  not,  however,  despair. 
A  portion  of  the  very  poem  of  Homer  which  has  elicit- 
ed these  remarks,  has  lately  been  discovered  in  the  en- 
veloping folds  of  a  mummy ;  and  who  shall  say  that 
we  may  not  hereafter  unravel  the  verses  of  some  Mem- 
phian  bard,  who  has  been  taking  a  nap  of  two  or  three 
thousand  years  in  the  catacombs  of  Luxor  ?  M.  Denon 
maintains  that  almost  all  the  learning,  and  nearly  all  the 
arts,  of  modern  Europe,  Were  known  to  the  ancient 
Egyptians  ;  and  as  a  partial  confirmation  of  this  theory, 
I  may  here  mention,  that  on  the  interior  case  of  a 
mummy-chest  there  was  lately  found  a  plate  of  crystal- 


150  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

lized  metal  resembling  tin,  although  that  art  has  only 
been  recently  and  accidentally  discovered  in  England. 
So  true  is  it  that  there  is  nothing  new  which  has  not 
once  been  old. 

What  laborious  days,  what  watchings  by  the  mid- 
night lamp,  what  rackings  of  the  brain,  what  hopes  and 
fears,  what  long  lives  of  laborious  study,  are  here  sub- 
limized  into  print,  and  condensed  into  the  narrow  com- 
pass of  these  surrounding  shelves !  What  an  epitome 
of  the  past  world,  and  how  capricious  the  fate  by  which 
some  of  them  have  been  preserved,  while  others  of 
greater  value  have  perislied  !  The  monks  of. the  middle 
ages,  being  the  great  medium  of  conservation,  and  out- 
raged nature  inciting  them  to  avenge  the  mortification 
of  the  body  by  the  pruriousness  of  the  mind,  the  amatory 
poets  have  not  only  come  down  to  us  tolerably  entire, 
but  they  "  have  added  fat  pollutions  of  their  own,"  pass- 
ing off  their  lascivious  elegies  as  the  production  of  Cor- 
nelius Gallus,  or  anonymously  sending  forth  into  the 
world  still  more  licentious  and  gross  erotics.  Some  of 
the  richest  treasures  of  antiquity  have  been  redeemed 
from  the  dust  and  cobwebs  of  monastical  libraries, 
lumber-rooms,  sacristies,  and  cellars ;  others  have  been 
excavated  in  iron  chests,  or  disinterred  from  beneath 
ponderous  tomes  of  controversial  divinity,  or  copied  from 
the  backs  of  homilies  and  sermons,  with  which,  in  the 
scarcity  of  parchment,  they  had  been  over-written.  If 
some  of  our  multitudinous  writers  would  compile  a 
circumstantial  account  of  the  resurrection  of  every 
classical  author,  and  a  minute  narrative  of  the  discovery 
of  every  celebrated  piece  of  ancient  sculpture,  what  an 
interesting  volume  might  be  formed ! 


THE    LIBRARY.  151 


Numerous  as  they  are,  what  are  the  books  preserved 
in  comparison  with  those  that  we  have  lost?  The  dead 
races  of  mankind  scarcely  outnumber  the  existing 
generation  more  prodigiously  than  do  the  books  that 
have  perished  exceed  those  that  remain  to  us.  Men  are 
naturally  scribblers,  and  there  has  probably  prevailed, 
in  all  ages  since  the  invention  of  letters,  a  much  more 
extensive  literature  than  is  dreamt  of  in  our  philosophy. 
Osymandias,  the  ancient  King  of  Egypt,  if  Herodotus 
may  be  credited,  built  a  library  in  his  palace,  over  the 
door  of  which  was  the  well-known  inscription — "  Physic 
for  the  Soul."  Job  wishes  that  his  adversary  had 
written  a  book,  probably  for  the  consolation  of  cutting 
it  up  in  some  Quarterly  or  Jerusalem  Review ;  the  ex- 
pression, at  all  events,  indicates  a  greater  activity  "  in 
the  Row"  than  we  are  apt  to  ascribe  to  those  primitive 
times.  Allusion  is  also  made  in  the  Scriptures  to  the 
library  of  the  Kings  of  Persia,  as  well  as  to  one  built 
by  Nehemiah.  Ptolemy  Philadelphus  had  a  collection 
of  700,000  volumes  destroyed  by  Csesar's  soldiers ;  and 
the  Alexandrian  Library,  burnt  by  the  Caliph  Omar, 
contained  400,000  manuscripts.  What  a  combustion 
of  congregated  brains  ! — the  quintescence  of  ages — the 
wisdom  of  a  world — all  simultaneously  converted  into 
smoke  and  ashes !  This,  as  Cowley  would  have  said,  is 
to  put  out  the  fire  of  genius  by  that  of  the  torch ;  to  ex- 
tinguish the  light  of  reason  in  that  of  its  own  funeral 
pyre ;  to  make  matter  once  more  triumph  over  mind. 
Possibly,  however,  our  loss  is  rather  imaginary  than 
real,  greater  in  quantity  than  in  quality.  Men's  intellects, 
like  their  frames,  continue  pretty  much  the  same  in  all 
ages,  and  the  human  faculty,  limited  in  its  sphere  of 


152  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

action,  and  operating  always  upon  the  same  materials, 
soon  arrives  at  an  impassable  acme  which  leaves  us 
nothing  to  do  but  to  ring  the  changes  upon  antiquity. 
Half  our  epic  poems  are  modifications  of  Homer,  though 
none  are  equal  to  that  primitive  model;  our  Ovidian 
elegies,  our  Pindarics,  and  our  Anacreontics,  all  resemble 
their  first  parents  in  features  as  well  as  in  name.  Fer- 
tilizing our  minds  with  the  brains  of  our  predecessors, 
we  raise  new  crops  of  the  old  grain,  and  pass  away  to 
manure  the  intellectual  field  for  future  harvests  of  the 
same  description.  Destruction  and  reproduction  is  the 
system  of  the  moral  as  well  as  of  the  physical  world. 

An  anonymous  book  loses  half  its  interest ;  it  is  the 
voice  of  the  invisible,  an  echo  from  the  clouds,  the 
shadow  of  an  unknown  substance,  an  abstraction  devoid 
of  all  humanity.  One  likes  to  hunt  out  an  author,  if 
he  be  dead,  in  obituaries  and  biographical  dictionaries ; 
to  chase  him  from  his  birth ;  to  be  in  at  his  death,  and 
learn  what  other  offspring  of  his  brain  survive  him. 
Even  an  assumed  name  is  better  than  none ;  though  it 
is  clearly  a  nominal  fraud,  a  desertion  from  our  own  to 
enlist  into  another  identity.  It  may  be  doubted  whether 
we  have  any  natural  right  thus  to  leap  down  the  throat, 
as  it  were,  of  an  imaginary  personage,  and  pass  off  a 
counterfeit  of  our  own  creation  for  genuine  coinage.  But 
the  strongest  s^mi-vitality,  or  zoophite  state  of  existence, 
is  that  of  the -writers  of  Epliemcridcs,  who  s<ju<v/<*  the 
whole  bulk  of  their  individuality  into  the  narrow  coin- 
pass  of  a  single  consonant  or  vowel ;  who  have  an  al- 
phabious  being  as  Mr.  A.,  a  liquid  celebrity  under  the 
initial  of  L.,  or  attain  an  immortality  of  zig-zag  under 
the  signature  of  Z.  How  fantastical  to  be  personally 


THE    LIBRARY.  153 


known  as  an  impersonal,  to  be  literally  a  man  of  letters, 
to  have  all  our  virtues  and  talents  entrusted  to  one  little 
hieroglyphic,  like  the  bottles  in  the  apothecary's  shop. 
Compared  to  this  ignoble  imprisonment,  how  light  the 
punishment  of  the  negligent  Sylph,  who  was  threat- 
ened to 

Be  stopp'd  in  vials,  or  transfix'd  with  pins, 
Or  plunged  in  lakes  of  bitter  washes  lie, 
Or  wedged  whole  ages  in  a  bodkin's  eye ; 
Gums  and  pomatums  shall  his  flight  restrain, 
While,  clogg'd,  he  beats  his  silken  wings  in  vain. 

So  gross  are  my  perceptions,  that  my  mind  refuses 
to  take  cognizance  of  these  Magazine  sprites,  in  their 
alphabetical  and  shadowy  state.  I  animate  these 
monthly  apparitions,  put  flesh  and  blood  around  the 
bones  of  their  letters,  and  even  carry  my  humanity  so 
far  as  to  array  them  in  appropriate  garments.  I  have 
an  ideal  (not  always  a  beau  ideal)  of  every  one  of  the 
contributors  to  the  New  Monthly,  as  accurate,  no  doubt, 
as  the  notion  which  Lavater  formed  of  men's  characters 
from  their  autograph.  Sometimes,  however,  this 
Promethean  art  has  been  a  puzzling  process.  One 
Essayist,  wishing  to  immortalize  himself,  like  the  Wat- 
Tylericide  Mayor  of  London,  by  a  dagger,  assumed  that 
note  of  reference  as  his  signature,  and  occasioned  me  in- 
finite trouble  in  providing  a  sheath  of  flesh.  Another, 
who  now  honourably  wields  the  sword  of  justice  in  the 
land  of  the  convict  and  the  kangaroo,  used  to  distinguish 
his  well-written  papers  by  three  daggers  at  once,  taxing 
my  imagination  to  the  utmost  by  this  tripartite  indivi- 
duality, and  making  expensive  demands  upon  the 
7 


154  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

wardrobe  of  my  brain.  A  third  held  out  a  hand  at  the 
bottom  of  his  page,  beckoning  me  to  its  welcome 
perusal — a  symbol  which  my  eye  (if  the  catachresis  may 
be  allowed)  was  always  eager  to  grasp  and  shake,  and 
to  which  my  fancy  affixed  a  body  with  as  much  con- 
fidence as  he  who  conjured  up  a  Hercules  from  a  foot. 
But  the  most  bewildering  of  these  contractions  of 
humanity  was  the  subscription  of  a  star;  for,  after  a 
man  had  become  sidereal  and  accomplished  his  apo- 
theosis, it  seemed  somewhat  irreverend  to  restore"  him 
to  his  incarnate  state. 

"This  raised  a  mortal  to  the  skies, 
That  drew  an  author  down." 

I  brought  down  these  Astraei  from  their  empyrean, 
remodelled  their  frames,  gave  them  a  suit  of  clothes  for 
nothing,  and  had  before  my  mind's  eye  a  distinct 
presentment  of  their  identity. 

Even  when  we  assume  a  literary  individuality  some- 
what more  substantial  than  this  fanciful  creation  ;  when 
one  is  known,  proprid  persona,  as  the  real  identical 
Tomkins,  who  writes  in  a  popular  magazine  under  the 
signature  of  any  specific  letter,  to  what  does  it  amount  ? 
— an  immortality  of  a  month,  after  Avhich  we  are 
tranquilly  left  to  enjoy  an  eternity — of  oblivion.  Our 
very  nature  is  ephemeral :  we  "  come  like  shadows,  so 
depart."  From  time  to  time  some  benevolent  and  dis- 
interested compiler  endeavors  to  pluck  us  from  the 
Lethean  gulf,  by  republishing  our  best  papers  under  the 
captivating  title  erf  "  Beauties  of  the  Magazines,"  "  Spirit 
of  the  modern  Essayists,"  or  some  such  embalming 
words;  but  alas!  like  a  swimmer  in  the  wide  ocean, 


THE    LIBRARY.  155 


who  attempts  to  uphold  his  sinking  comrade,  he  can 
but  give  him  a  few  moments'  respite,  when  both  sink 
together  in  the  waters  of  oblivion.  We  know  what 
pains  have  been  taken  to  appropriate  Addis  on's  and 
Steele's  respective  papers  in  the  Spectator,  distinguished 
only  by  initials.  Deeming  my  own  lucubrations  (as 
what  essayist  does  not?)  fully  entitled  to  the  same 
anxious  research,  I  occasionally  please  myself  with 
dreaming  that  some  future  Malone,  seated  in  a  library, 
as  I  am  at  this  present  moment,  may  take  down  a  sur- 
viving volume  of  the  New  Monthly,  and,  naturally 
curious  to  ascertain  the  owner  of  the  initial  H,  may 
discover,  by  ferreting  into  obituaries  and  old  newspapers, 
that  it  actually  designates  a  Mr.  Higginbotham,  who 
lies  buried  in  Shoreditch  church.  Anticipating  a  hand- 
some monument  with  a  full  account  of  the  author,  and 
some  pathetic  verses  by  a  poetical  friend,  he  hurries  to 
the  spot,  and  after  an  infinity  of  groping,  assisted  by 
the  sexton's  spectacles,  discovers  a  flat  stone,  which, 
under  the  customary  emblems  of  a  death's  head  and 
cross  bones,  conveys  the  very  satisfactory  information* 
that  the  aforesaid  Mr.  Higginbotham  was  born  on  one 
day  and  died  upon  another.  Of  all  the  intervening 
period,  its  hopes  and  fears,  its  joys  and  miseries,  its 
verse  and  prose,  not  an  atom  farther  can  be  gleaned. 
And  this  it  is  to  be  a  writer  of  Ephemerides  !  Verily, 
the  idea  is  so  disheartening,  that  I  should  be  tempted 
to  commit  some  rash  act,  and  perpetrate  publication  on 
my  own  account,  but  that  I  have  before  my  eyes  the 
fate  of  certain  modern  Blackmores,  impressing  upon  me 
the  salutary  truth,  that  if  we  must  perish  and  be  for- 
gotton,  it  is  better  to  die  of  a  monthly  essay  than  an 
annual  epic. 


156 


GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 


UGLY  WOMEN. 

"Un  homme  rencontre  une  femme.  et  est  cheque  de  sa  laideur;  bien- 
tot,  si  elle  n'a  pas  de  pretcntions,  sa  physionomie  lui  fait  oublier  les  defauts 
de  ses  traits,  il  la  trouve  aimable,  et  conceit  qu'on  puisse  r  aimer;  huit 
jours  apres  il  a  des  esperances,  huit  jours  apres  on  les  lui  retire,  huit  jours 
aprC-s  il  cst  fou." 

De  V Amour. 

THE  ancient  inhabitants  of  Amathus,  in  the  island  of 
Cyprus,  were  the  most  celebrated  statuaries  in  the  world, 
which  they  almost  exclusively  supplied  with  gods  and 
goddesses.  Every  one  who  had  a  mind  to  be  in  the 
vogue  ordered  his  deity  from  those  fashionable  artists : 
even  Jupiter  himself  was  hardly  considered  orthodox 
and  worship-worthy,  unless  emanating  from  the  estab- 
lished Pantheon  of  the  Cypriots;  and  as  to  Juno, 
Venus,  Minerva  and  Diana,  it  was  admitted  that  they 
had  a  peculiar  knack  in  their  manufacture,  and  it  need 
hardly  be  added  that  they  drove  a  thriving  trade  in 
those  popular  goddesses.  But  this  monopoly  was  more 
favourable  to  the  fortunes  than  to  the  happiness  of  the 
parties.  By  constantly  straining  above  humanity,  and 
aspiring  to  the  representation  of  celestial  beauty ;  by 
fostering  the  enthusiasm  of  their  imaginations  in  the 
pursuit  of  the  beau  idtal, — they  acquired  a  distaste,  or 
at  least  an  indifference,  for  mortal  attractions,  and 
turned  up  their  noses  at  their  fair  countrywomen  for  not 
being  Junos  and  Minervas.  Not  one  of  them  equalled 
the  model  which  had  been  conjured  up  in  their  minds, 
and  not  one  of  them,  consequently,  would  they  deign 
to  notice.  At  the  public  games,  the  women  were  all 
huddled  together,  whispering  and  looking  glum,  while 


UGLY    WOMEN.  15  7 


the  men  congregated  as  far  from  them  as  possible,  dis- 
cussing the  beau  idtfal.  Had  they  been  prosing  upon 
politics,  you  might  have  sworn  it  was  an  English  party. 
Dancing  was  extinct,  unless  the  ladies  chose  to  lead  out 
one  another;  the  priests  waxed  lank  and  woebegone 
for  want  of  the  marriage-offerings :  Hymen's  altar  was 
covered  with  as  many  cobwebs  as  a  poor's  box ;  suc- 
cessive moons  rose  and  set  without  a  single  honeymoon, 
and  the  whole  island  threatened  to  become  an  antinup- 
tial  colony  of  bachelors  and  old  maids. 

In  this  emergency,  Pygmalion,  the  most  eminent 
statuary  of  the  place,  falling  in  love  with  one  of  his  own 
works,  a  figure  of  Diana,  which  happened  to  possess  the 
beau  id£al  in  perfection,  implored  Venus  to  animate  the 
marble ;  and  she,  as  is  well  known  to  every  person 
conversant  with  authentic  history,  immediately  granted 
his  request.  So  far  as  this  couple  ^vere  concerned,  one 
would  have  imagined  that  the  evil  was  remedied  ;  but, 
alas !  the  remedy  was  worse  than  the  disease.  The 
model  of  excellence  was  now  among  them,  alive  and 
breathing ;  the  men  were  perfectly  mad,  beleaguering 
the  house  from  morn  to  night  to  get  a  peep  at  her ;  all 
other  women  were  treated  with  positive  insult,  and  of 
course  the  whole  female  population  was  possessed  by  all 
the  Furies.  Marmorea  (such  was  the  name  of  the 
animated  statue)  was  no  Diana  in  the  flesh,  whatever 
she  might  have  been  in  the  marble :  if  the  scandalous 
chronicles  of  those  days  may  be  believed,  she  had  more 
than  one  favoured  lover;  certain  is  that  she  was  the 
cause  of  constant  feuds  and  battles  in  which  many  lives 
were  lost,  and  Pygmalion  himself  was  at  last  found 
murdered  in  the  neighbourhood  of  his  own  house.  The 


158  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

whole  island  was  now  on  the  point  of  a  civil  war  on 
account  of  this  philanthropical  Helen,  when  one  of  her 
disappointed  wooers,  in  a  fit  of  jealousy,  stabbled  her  to 
the  heart,  and  immediately  after  threw  himself  from  a 
high  rock  into  the  sea. 

Such  is  the  tragedy  which  would  probably  be  enact- 
ing at  the  present  moment,  in  every  country  of  the 
world,  but  for  the  fortunate  circumstance  that  we  have 
no  longer  any  fixed  standard  of  beauty,  real  or  imagi- 
nary, and  by  a  necessary  and  happy  consequence  no 
determinate  rule  of  ugliness.  In  fact  there  are  no  such 
animals  as  ugly  women,  though  we  still  continue  to 
talk  of  them  as  we  do  of  Harpies,  Gorgons,  and  Chi- 
meras. There  is  no  deformity  that  does  not  find  ad- 
mirers, and  no  loveliness  that  is  not  deemed  defective. 
Anamaboo,  the  African  prince,  received  so  many  atten- 
tions from  a  celebrated  belle  of  London,  that,  in  a 
moment  of  tenderness,  he  could  not  refrain  from  laying 
his  hand  on  his  heart  and  exclaiming,  "  Ah !  madam,  if 
Heaven  had  only  made  you  a  negress,  you  would  have 
been  irresistible  !"  And  the  same  beauty,  when  travelling 
among  the  Swiss  Cretins,  heard  several  of  the  men 
ejaculating,  "  How  handsome  she  is !  what  a  pity  that 
she  wants  a  Goitre !"  Plain  women  were  formerly  so 
common,  that  they  were  termed  ordinary,  to  signify 
the  frequency  of  their  occurrence ;  in  these  happier  days 
the  phrase  &r/raordinary  would  be  more  applicable. 
However  parsimonious,  or  even  cruel,  Nature  may  have 
been  in  other  respects,  they  all  cling  to  admiration  by 
some  solitary  tenure  that  redeems  them  from  the  un- 
qualified imputation  of  unattractiveness.  One  has  an 
eye  that,  like  Charity,  covers  a  multitude  of  sins;  an- 


UGLY     WOMEN.  159 


other  is  a  female  Samson,  whose  strength  consists  in 
her  hair ;  a  third  holds  your  affections  by  her  teeth  ;  a 
fourth  is  a  Cinderella,  who  wins  hearts  by  her  pretty 
little  foot ;  a  fifth  makes  an  irresistible  appeal  from  her 
face  to  her  figure,  and  so  on,  to  the  end  of  the  catalogue. 
An  expressive  countenance  may  always  be  claimed  in 
the  absence  of  any  definite  charm :  if  even  this  be 
questionable,  the  party  generally  contrives  to  get  a  re- 
putation for  great  cleverness ;  and  if  that  too  be  in- 
humanly disputed,  envy  itself  must  allow  that  she  is 
"  excessively  amiable." 

Still  it  must  be  acknowledged,  that  however  men 
may  differ  as  to  the  details,  they  agree  as  to  results,  and 
crowd  about  an  acknowledged  beauty,  influenced  by 
some  secret  attraction,  01  which  they  are  themselves 
unconscious,  and  of  which  the  source  has  never  been 
clearly  explained.  It  would  seem  impossible  that  it 
should  originate  in  any  sexual  symptoms,  since  we  feel 
the  impulsion  without  carrying  ourselves,  even  in  idea, 
beyond  the  present  pleasure  of  gazing,  and  are  even 
sensibly  affected  by  the  sight  of  beautiful  children  :  yet 
it  cannot  be  an  abstract  admiration,  for  it  is  incontest- 
able that  neither  men  nor  women  are  so  vehemently 
impressed  by  the  contemplation  of  beauty  in  their  own 
as  in  the  opposite  sex.  This  injustice  towards  our  own 
half  of  humanity  might  be  assigned  to  a  latent  envy, 
but  that  the  same  remark  applies  to  the  pleasure  we 
derive  from  statues,  of  the  proportions  of  which  we  could 
hardly  be  jealous.  Ugly  statues  may  be  left  to  their 
fate  without  any  compunctious  visitings  of  nature :  but 
our  conduct  towards  women,  whom  we  conceive  to  be 
in  a  similar  predicament,  is  by  no  means  entitled  to  the 


100  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

same  indulgence.  We  shuffle  away  from  them  at  parties, 
and  sneak  to  the  other  end  of  the  dinner-table,  as  if  their 
features  were  catching ;  and  as  to  their  falling  in  love 
and  possessing  the  common  feelings  of  their  sex,  we 
laugh  at  the  very  idea.  And  yet  these  Parias  of  the 
drawing-room  generally  atone,  by  interior  talent,  for 
what  they  want  in  exterior  charms ;  as  if  the  Medusa's 
head  were  still  destined  to  be  carried  by  Minerva. 
Nature  seldom  lavishes  her  gifts  upon  one  subject :  the 
peacock  has  no  voice :  the  beautiful  Camellia  Japonica 
has  no  odour ;  and  belles,  generally  speaking,  have  no 
great  share  of  intellect.  Some  visionaries  amuse  them- 
selves with  imagining  that  the  complacency  occasioned 
by  the  possession  of  physical  charms  conduces  to  moral 
perfection. — 

"  Why  doth  not  beauty,  then,  refine  the  wit, 
And  good  complexion  rectify  the  will  ?" 

This  is  a  fond  conceit,  unwarranted  by  earthly  test, 
though  destined  perhaps  to  be  realized  in  a  happier 
state  of  existence. 

AVhat  a  blessing  for  these  unhandsome  damsels 
whom  we  treat  still  more  unhandsomely  by  our  fasti- 
dious neglect,  that  some  of  us  are  less  squeamish  in  our 
tastes,  and  more  impartial  in  our  attentions  !  Solomon 
proves  the  antiquity  of  the  adage — "De  gustibus  nil 
disputandum,"  for  he  compares  the  hair  of  his  be- 
loved to  a  flock  of  goats  appearing  from  Mount  Gilead, 
and  in  a  strain  of  enamoured  flattery  exclaims,  "  Thy 
eyes  are  like  the  fish-pools  in  Heshbon,  by  the  gate  of 
Bath-rabbim ;  thy  nose  like  the  tower  of  Lebanon  look- 
ing towards  Damascus."  Now  I  deem  it  as  becoming 


UGLY    WOMEN.  161 


to  see  a  woman  standing  behind  a  good  roomy  nose,  as 
to  contemplate  a  fair  temple  with  a  majestic  portico  ; 
but  it  may  be  questioned  whether  a  nose  like  the  tower 
of  Lebanon  be  not  somewhat  too  elephantine  and  bor- 
dering on  the  proboscis.  The  nez  retroussg  is  smart  and 
piquant ;  the  button-nose,  like  all  other  diminutives,  is 
endearing ;  and  even  the  snub  absolute  has  its  admirers. 
Cupid  can  get  over  it,  though  it  have  no  bridge,  and 
jumps  through  a  wall-eye  like  a  harlequin.  As  to  the 
latter  feature,  my  taste  may  be  singular,  perhaps  bad, 
but  I  confess  that  I  have  a  penchant  for  that  captivating 
cast,  sometimes  invidiously  termed  a  squint.  Its  ad- 
vantages are  neither  few  nor  unimportant.  Like  a  bowl, 
its  very  bias  makes  it  sure  of  hitting  the  jack,  while  it 
seems  to  be  running  out  of  the  course ;  and  it  has, 
moreover,  the  invaluable  property  of  doing  execution 
without  exciting  suspicion,  like  the  Irish  guns  with 
crooked  barrels,  made  for  shooting  round  a  corner. 
Common  observers  admire  the  sun  in  its  common  state, 
but  philosophers  find  it  a  thousand  times  more  inte- 
resting when  suffering  a  partial  eclipse ;  while  the  lovers 
of  the  picturesque  are  more  smitten  with  its  rising  and 
setting  than  with  its  meridian  splendour.  Such  men 
must  be  enchanted  with  a  strabismus  or  squint,  where 
they  may  behold  the  ball  of  sight  emerging  from  the 
nnsal  East,  or  setting  in  its  Occidental  depths,  presenting 
every  variety  of  obscuration.  With  regard  to  teeth, 
also,  a  very  erroneous  taste  prevails.  Nothing  can  be 
more  stiff  and  barrack-like  than  that  uniformity  of  shape 
and  hue  which  is  so  highly  vaunted,  for  the  merest  tyro 
in  landscape  will  tell  us  that  castellated  and  jagged  out- 
lines, with  a  pleasing  variety  of  tints,  are  infinitely  more 


162  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

pictorial  and  pleasing.  Patches  of  bile  in  the  face  are 
by  no  means  to  be  deprecated ;  they  impart  to  it  a  rich 
mellow  tone  of  autumnal  colouring,  which  we  should  in 
vain  seek  in  less  gifted  complexions :  and  I  am  most 
happy  to  vindicate  the  claims  of  a  moderate  beard  upon 
the  upper  lip,  which  is  as  necessary  to  the  perfect  beauty 
of  the  mouth  as  are  the  thorns  and  moss  to  a  rose,  or 
the  leaves  to  a  cherry.  If  there  be  any  old  maids  still 
extant,  while  mysogonists  are  so  rare,  the  fault  must  be 
attributable  to  themselves,  and  they  must  incur  all  the 
responsibility  of  their  single  blessedness. 

In  the  connubial  lottery  ugly  women  possess  an  ad- 
vantage to  which  sufficient  importance  has  not  been 
attached.  It  is  a  common  observation,  that  husband 
and  wife  frequently  resemble  one  another ;  and  many 
ingenious  theorists,  attempting  to  solve  the  problem  by 
attributing  it  to  sympathy,  contemplation  of  one  another's 
features,  congeniality  of  habits  and  modes  of  life,  &c., 
have  fallen  into  the  very  common  error  of  substituting 
the  cause  for  the  effect.  This  mutual  likeness  is  the  oc- 
casion, not  the  result,  of  marriage.  Every  man,  like 
Narcissus,  becomes  enamoured  of  the  reflection  of  him- 
self, only  choosing  a  substance  instead  of  a  shadow. 
His  love  for  any  particular  woman  is  self-love  at  second- 
hand, vanity  reflected,  compound  egotism.  When  he 
sees  himself  in  the  mirror  of  a  female  face,  he  exclaims, 
"How  intelligent,  how  amiable,  how  interesting  ! — how 
admirably  adapted  for  a  wife  !"  and  forthwith  makes  his 
proposals  to  the  personage  so  expressly  and  literally 
calculated  to  keep  him  in  countenance.  The  uglier  he 
is,  the  more  need  he  has  of  this  consolation  ;  he  forms 
a  romantic  attachment  to  the  "fascinating  creature 


UGLY    WOMEN.  163 


with  the  snub  nose,"  or  the  "  bewitching  girl  with  the 
roguish  leer,"  ( Anglice — squint,)  without  once  suspecting 
that  he  is  paying  his  addresses  to  himself,  and  playing 
the  innamorato  before  a  looking-glass.  Take  self-love 
from  love,  and  very  little  remains  :  it  is  taking  the 
flame  from  Hymen's  torch  and  leaving  the  smoke. 
The  same  feeling  extends  to  his  progeny  :  he  would 
rather  see  them  resemble  himself,  particularly  in  his 
defects,  than  be  modelled  after  the  chubbiest  Cherubs 
or  Cupids  that  ever  emanated  from  the  studio  of  Canova. 
One  sometimes  encounters  a  man  of  a  most  unqualified 
hideousness,  who  obviously  considers  himself  an  Adonis ; 
and  when  such  a  one  has  to  seek  a  congenial  Venus,  it 
is  evident  that  her  value  will  be  in  the  inverse  ratio  of 
her  charms.  Upon  this  principle  ugly  women  will  be 
converted  into  belles,  perfect  frights  will  become  irresist- 
ible, and  none  need  despair  of  conquests,  if  they  have 
but  the  happiness  to  be  sufficiently  plain. 

The  best  part  of  beauty,  says  Bacon,  is  that  which 
a  statue  or  painting  cannot  express.  As  to  symmetry  of 
form  and  superficial  grace,  sculpture  is  exquisitely  per- 
fect, but  the  countenance  is  of  too  subtle  and  intangible 
a  character  to  be  arrested  by  any  modification  of  marble. 
Busts,  especially  where  the  pupil  of  the  eye  is  unmarked, 
have  the  appearance  of  mere  masks,  and  are  represen- 
tations of  little  more  than  blindness  and  death.  Paint- 
ing supplies  by  colouring  and  shade  much  that  sculp- 
ture wants  ;  but,  on  the  other  hand,  it  is  deficient  in 
what  its  rival  possesses — fidelity  of  superficial  form. 
Nothing  can  compensate  for  our  inability  to  walk  round  a 
picture,  and  choose  various  points  of  view.  Facility  of 
production,  meanness  of  material,  and  vulgarity  of  as- 


164  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

sociation,  have  induced  us  to  look  down  with  unmerited 
contempt  upon  those  waxen  busts  in  the  perfumers1 
shops,  which,  as  simple  representations  of  female  nature, 
have  attained  a  perfection  that  positively  amounts  to  the 
kissable.  That  delicacy  of  tint  and  material,  which  so 
admirably  adapts  itself  to  female  beauty,  forms,  how- 
ever, but  a  milk-rnaidish  representation  of  virility,  and 
the  men  have,  consequently,  as  epicene  and  androgynous 
an  aspect  as  if  they  had  just  been  bathing  in  the  Sal- 
macian  fountain. 

Countenance,  however,  is  not  within  the  reach  of 
any  of  these  substances  or  combinations.  It  is  a  species 
of  moral  beauty,  as  superior  to  mere  charm  of  surface 
as  mind  is  to  matter.  It  is,  in  fact,  visible  spirit,  legible 
intellect,  diffusing  itself  over  the  features,  and  enabling 
minds  to  commune  with  each  other  by  some  secret  sym- 
pathy unconnected  with  the  senses.  The  heart  has  a 
silent  echo  in  the  face,  which  frequently  carries  to  us  a 
conviction  diametrically  opposite  to  the  audible  expres- 
sions of  the  mouth  ;  and  we  see,  through  the  eyes,  into 
the  understanding  of  the  man,  long  before  it  can  com- 
municate with  us  by  utterance.  This  emanation  of 
character  is  the  light  of  a  soul  destined  to  the  skies, 
shining  through  its  tegument  of  clay,  and  irradiating 
the  countenance,  as  the  sun  illuminates  the  face  of  na- 
ture before  it  rises  above  the  earth  to  commence  its 
heavenly  career.  Of  this  indefinable  charm  all  women 
are  alike  susceptible  :  it  is  to  them  what  gunpowder  is 
to  warriors  ;  it  levels  all  distinctions,  and  gives  to  the 
plain  and  the  pretty,  to  the  timid  and  the  brave,  an 
equal  chance  of  making  conquests.  It  is,  in  fine,  one 
among  a  thousand  proofs  of  that  system  of  compensa- 


THE    WORLD.  165 


tion,  both  physical  and  moral,  by  which  a  Superior 
Power  is  perpetually  evincing  his  benignity  ;  affording 
to  every  human  being  a  commensurate  chance  of 
happiness,  and  inculcating  upon  all,  that  when  they 
turn  their  faces  towards  heaven,  they  should  reflect  the 
light  from  above,  and  be  animated  by  one  uniform  ex- 
pression of  love,  resignation,  and  gratitude. 


THE  WORLD. 

Nihil  est  dulciiis  his  literis,  quibus  ccelum,  terrain,  maria,  cognoscimus. 

THERE  is  a  noble  passage  in  Lucretius,  in  which  he 
describes  a  savage  in  the  early  stage  of  the  world, 
when  men  were  yet  contending  with  beasts  the  posses- 
sion of  the  earth,  flying  with  loud  shrieks  through  the 
woods  from  the  pursuit  of  some  ravenous  animal,  una- 
ble to  fabricate  arms  for  his  defence,  and  without  art  to 
staunch  the  streaming  wounds  inflicted  on  him  by  his 
four-footed  competitor.  But  there  is  a  deeper  subject  of 
speculation,  if  we  carry  our  thoughts  back  to  that  still 
earlier  period  when  the  beasts  of  the  field  and  forest 
held  undivided  sway ;  when  Titanian  brutes,  whose  race 
has  been  long  extinct,  exercised  a  terrific  despotism  over 
the  subject  earth  ;  and  that  "  bare  forked  animal,"  who 
is  pleased  to  dub  himself  the  Lord  of  the  Creation, 
had  not  been  called  up  out  of  the  dust  to  assume  his 
soi-disant  supremacy.  Geologists  pretend  to  discover 
in  the  bowels  of  the  earth  itself  indisputable  proofs  that 
it  must  have  been  for  many  centuries  nothing  more 
than  a  splendid  arena  for  monsters.  We  have  scarcely 


166  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

penetrated  beyond  its  surface ;  but,  whenever  any  con- 
vulsion of  Nature  affords  us  a  little  deeper  insight  into 
her  recesses,  we  seldom  fail  to  discover  fossil  remains  of 
gigantic  creatures,  though,  amid  all  these  organic  frag- 
ments, we  never  encounter  the  slightest  trace  of  any 
human  relics.  How  strange  the  surmise,  that  for  nu- 
merous, perhaps  innumerable  centuries,  this  most  beau- 
tiful pageant  of  the  world  performed  its  magnificent 
evolutions,  the  sun  and  moon  rising  and  setting,  the 
seasons  following  their  appointed  succession,  and  the 
ocean  uprolling  its  invariable  tides,  for  no  other  appa- 
rent purpose  than  that  lions  and  tigers  might  retire 
howling  to  their  dens,  as  the  shaking  of  the  ground 
proclaimed  the  approach  of  the  mammoth,  or  that  the 
behemoth  might  perform  his  unwieldy  flounderings  in 
the  deep !  How  bewildering  the  idea,  that  the  glorious 
firmament  and  its  constellated  lights,  and  the  varicolour- 
ed clouds,  that  hang  like  pictures  upon  its  sides  ;  and 
the  perfume  which  the  flowers  scatter  from  their  painted 
censers — and  the  blushing  fruits  that  delight  the  eye 
not  less  than  the  palate — and  the  perpetual  music  of 
winds,  waves,  and  woods, — should  have  been  formed 
for  the  recreation  and  embellishment  of  a  vast  mena- 
gerie ! 

And  yet  we  shall  be  less  struck  with  wonder — that 
all  this  beauty,  pomp,  and  delight,  should  have  been 
thrown  away  upon  undiscerning  and  unreasoning  brutes, 
if  we  call  to  mind  that  many  of  those  human  bipeds, 
to  whom  Nature  has  given  the  "os  sublime"  have  little 
more  perception  or  enjoyment  of  her  charms  than  a 
"  cow  on  a  common,  or  goose  on  a  green."  Blind  to 
her  more  obvious  wonders,  we  cannot  expect  that  they 


THE    WORLD.  167 


should  be  interested  in  the  silent  but  stupendous  mira- 
cles which  an  invisible  hand  is  perpetually  performing 
around  them — that  they  should  ponder  on  the  mysteri- 
ous, and  even  contradictory  metamorphoses,  which  the 
unchanged  though  change-producing  earth  is  unceas- 
ingly effecting.  She  converts  an  acorn  into  a  majestic 
oak,  and  they  heed  it  not,  though  they  will  wonder  for 
whole  months  how  harlequin  changed  a  porter-pot  into 
a  nosegay :  she  raises  from  a  little  bulb  a  stately  tulip, 
and  they  only  notice  it  to  remark,  that  it  would  bring 
a  good  round  sum  in  Holland  ; — from  one  seed  she 
elaborates  an  exquisite  flower,  which  diffuses  a  delicious 
perfume,  while  to  another  by  its  side  she  imparts  an 
offensive  odour  :  from  some  she  extracts  a  poison,  from 
others  a  balm,  while  from  the  reproductive  powers  of  a 
small  grain  she  contrives  to  feed  the  whole  populous 
earth  :  and  yet  these  matter-of-course  gentry,  because 
such  magical  paradoxes  are  habitual,  see  in  them  no- 
thing more  strange  than  that  they  themselves  should 
cease  to  be  hungry  when  they  have  had  their  dinners  ; 
or  that  two  and  two  should  make  four,  when  they  are 
adding  up  their  Christmas  bills.  It  is  of  no  use  to  re- 
mind such  obtuse  plodders,  when  recording  individual 
enthusiasm,  that 

"My  charmer  is  not  mine  alone  ;  my  sweets, 
And  she  that  sweetens  all  my  bitters  too, 
Nature,  enchanting  Nature,  in  whose  form 
And  lineaments  divine  I  trace  a  hand 
That  errs  not,  and  find  raptures  still  renew'd, 
Is  free  to  all  men universal  prize  ; " 

for  though  she  may  be  free  to  them,  she  sometimes  pre- 


168  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

sents  them,  instead  of  a  prize,  "  an  universal  blank." 
The  most  astounding  manifestations,  if  they  recur  regu- 
larly, are  unmarked  ;  it  is  only  the  trifling  deviations 
from  their  own  daily  experience  that  set  them  gaping 
in  a  stupid  astonishment. 

For  my  own  part,  I  thank  Heaven  that  I  can  never 
step  out  into  this  glorious  world — I  can  never  look 
forth  upon  the  flowery  earth,  and  the  glancing  waters, 
and  the  blue  sky,  without  feeling  an  intense  and  ever- 
new  delight; — a  physical  pleasure  that  makes  mere 
existence  delicious.  Apprehensions  of  the  rheumatism 
may  deter  me  from  imitating  the  noble  fervour  of  Lord 
Bacon,  who,  in  a  shower,  used  sometimes  to  take  off 
his  hat,  that  he  might  feel  the  great  spirit  of  the  uni- 
verse descend  upon  him ;  but  I  would  rather  gulp  down 
the  balmy  air  than  quaff  the  richest  ambrosia  that  was 
ever  tippled  upon  Olympus  ;  for  while  it  warms  and 
expands  the  heart,  it  produces  no  other  intoxication 
than  that  intellectual  abandonment  which  gives  up  the 
whole  soul  to  a  mingled  overflowing  of  gratitude  to 
Heaven,  and  benevolence  towards  man. — "  Were  I  not 
Alexander,"  said  the  Emathian  madman,  "  I  would 
wish  to  be  Diogenes  ; "  so  when  feasting  upon  this 
aerial  beverage,  which  is  like  swallowing  so  much  vital- 
ity, I  have  been  tempted  to  ejaculate, — Were  I  not  a 
man,  I  should  wish  to  be  a  cameleon.  In  Pudding- 
lane  and  the  Minories,  I  am  aware  that  this  potation, 
like  Irish  whiskey,  is  apt  to  have  the  smack  of  the 
smoke  somewhat  too  strong ;  and  even  the  classic  at- 
mosphere of  Conduit-street,  may  occasionally  require  a 
little  filtering :  but  I  speak  of  that  pure,  racy,  elastic 
element,  which  I  have  this  morning  been  inhaling  in 


THE    WORLD.  169 


one  of  the  forests  of  France,  where,  beneath  a  sky  of 
inconceivable  loveliness,  I  reclined  upon  a  mossy  bank, 
moralizing  like  Jacques  ;  when,  as  if  to  complete  the 
scene,  a  stag  emerged  from  the  trees,  gazed  at  me  for  a 
moment,  and  dashed  across  an  opening  into  the  far 
country.  Here  was  an  end  of  every  thing  Shakspeari- 
an,  for  presently  the  sound  of  horns  made  the  welkin 
ring,  and  a  set  of  grotesque  figures,  bedizened  with  lace 
dresses,  cocked  hats,  and  jack-boots,  deployed  from  the 
wood,  and  followed  the  chase  with  praiseworthy  regu- 
larity— the  nobles  taking  the  lead,  and  the  procession 
being  brought  up  by  the  "  valets  des  chiens  a  pied." — 
Solitude  and  silence  again  succeeded  to  this  temporary 
interruption,  though  in  the  amazing  clearness  of  the 
atmosphere  I  could  see  the  stag  and  his  pursuers  scour- 
ing across  the  distant  plain,  like  a  pigmy  pageant,  long 
after  I  had  lost  the  sound  of  the  horns  and  the  baying 
of  the  dogs.  A  man  must  have  been  abroad  to  form 
an  idea  of  the  lucidness  and  transparency,  which  con- 
fers upon  him  a  new  sense,  or  at  least  enlarges  an  old 
one,  by  the  additional  tracts  of  country  which  it  places 
within  the  visual  grasp,  and  the  heightened  hues  with 
which  the  wide  horizon  is  invested  by  the  crystal  medi- 
um through  which  it  is  surveyed. 

In  the  unfavoured  regions,  where  Heaven  seems  to 
look  with  a  scowling  eye  upon  the  earth,  and  the  hand 
of  a  tremendous  Deity  is  perpetually  stretched  forth  to 
wield  the  thunder  and  the  storm,  men  not  only  learn  to 
reverence  the  power  on  whose  mercy  they  feel  them- 
selves to  be  hourly  dependent,  but  instinctively  turn  from 
the  hardships  arid  privations  of  this  world  to  the  hope 
of  more  genial  skies  and  luxurious  sensations  in  the 
8 


170  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

next.  The  warmth  of  religion  is  frequently  in  propor- 
tion to  the  external  cold  :  the  more  the  body  shivers, 
the  more  the  mind  wraps  in  ideal  furs,  and  revels  in 
imaginary  sunshine  ;  and  it  is  remarkable,  that  in  every 
creed  climate  forms  an  essential  feature  in  the  rewards 
or  punishments  of  a  future  state.  The  Scandinavian 
hell  was  placed  amid  "  chilling  regions  of  thick-ribbed 
ice,"  while  the  attraction  of  the  Mahometan  paradise  is 
the  coolness  of  its  shady  groves.  By  the  lot  of  human- 
ity, there  is  no  proportion  between  the  extremes  of 
pleasure  and  pain.  No  enjoyment  can  be  set  off  against 
an  acute  tooth-ach,  much  less  against  the  amputation 
of  a  limb,  or  many  permanent  diseases  ;  and  our  distri- 
butions of  a  future  state  strikingly  attest  this  inherent 
inequality.  The  torments  are  intelligible  and  distinct 
enough,  and  lack  not  a  tangible  conception  ;  but  the 
beatitudes  are  shadowy  and  indefinite,  and,  for  want  of 
some  experimental  standard  by  which  to  estimate  them, 
are  little  better  than  abstractions. 

In  the  temperate  and  delicous  climates  of  the  earth, 
which  ought  to  operate  as  perpetual  stimulants  to  grateful 
piety,  there  is,  I  apprehend,  too  much  enjoyment  to 
leave  room  for  any  great  portion  of  religious  fervour. 
The  inhabitants  are  too  well  satisfied  with  this  world  to 
look  much  beyond  it.  "  I  have  no  objection,"  said  an 
English  sailor,  "  to  pray  upon  the  occasion  of  a  storm 
or  a  battle  ;  but  they  make  us  say  prayers  on  board  our 
ship  when  it  is  the  finest  weather  possible,  and  not  an 
enemy's  flag  to  be  seen  !"  This  is  but  a  blind  aggrava- 
tion of  a  prevalent  feeling  among  mankind,  when  the 
very  blessings  we  enjoy,  by  attaching  us  to  earth,  render 
us  almost  indifferent  to  heaven.  When  they  were  com- 


TIJE    WORLD.  171 


forting  a  king  of  France  upon  his  death-bed,  with  as- 
surances of  a  perennial  throne  amid  the  regions  of  the 
blessed,  he  replied,  with  a  melancholy  air,  that  he  was 
perfectly  satisfied  with  the  Tuileries  and  France.  I  my- 
self begin  to  feel  the  enervating  effects  of  climate,  for 
there  has  not  been  a  single  morning,  in  this  country,  in 
which  I  could  have  submitted,  with  reasonable  good 
humour,  to  be  hanged  :  while  in  England,  I  have  ex- 
perienced many  days,  in  and  out  of  November,  when  I 
could  have  gone  through  the  operation  with  stoical  in- 
difference ;  nay,  could  have  even  felt  an  extraordinary 
respect  for  the  Ordinary,  and  have  requested  Mr.  Ketch 
to  "  accept  the  assurances  of  my  distinguished  consid- 
eration," for  taking  the  trouble  off  my  own  hands.  I 
am  capable  of  feeling  now  why  the  Neapolitans,  in  the 
last  invasion,  boggled  about  exchanging,  upon  a  mere 
point  of  honour,  their  sunny  skies,  "love-breathing 
woods  and  lute  resounding  waves,"  and  the  sight  of  the 
dancing  Mediterranean, — for  the  silence  and  darkness  of 
the  cold  blind  tomb.  Falstaffs  in  every  thing,  they 
"  like  not  such  grinning  honour  as  Sir  Walter  hath." 
From  the  same  cause  the  luxurious  Asiatics  have  always 
fallen  an  easy  prey  to  the  invader ;  while  the  Arab 
has  invariably  been  ready  to  fight  for  his  burning  sands, 
and  the  Scythian  for  his  snows,  not  because  they  over- 
valued their  country,  but  because  its  hardships  had 
made  them  undervalue  life.  Many  men  cling  to  exist- 
ence to  perpetuate  pleasures,  as  there  are  some  who  will 
even  court  death  to  procure  them.  Gibbon  records 
what  he  terms  the  enthusiasm  of  a  young  Mussulman, 
who  threw  himself  upon  the  enemy'»lances,  singing  re- 
ligious hymns,  proclaiming  that  he  saw  the  black-eyed 


172  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

.       • ^ 

Houris  of  Paradise  waiting  with  open  arms  to  embrace 
him,  and  cheerfully  sought  destruction  that  he  might 
revel  in  lasciviousness.  This  is  not  the  fine  courage  of 
principle,  nor  the  fervour  of  patriotism,  but  the  drunk- 
enness of  sensuality.  The  cunning  device  of  Mahomet, 
in  offering  a  posthumous  bonus  to  those  who  would 
have  their  throats  cut  for  the  furtherance  of  his  ambi- 
tion, was  but  an  imitation  of  Odin  and  other  northern 
butchers  ;  and  what  is  glory,  in  its  vulgar  acceptation, 
stars,  crosses,  ribbons,  titles,  public  funerals,  and  national 
monuments,  but  the  blinding  baubles  with  which  more 
legitimate  slaughterers  lure  on  dupes  and  victims  to 
their  own  destruction  ?  These  sceptred  jugglers  shall 
never  coax  a  bayonet  into  my  body,  nor  wheedle  a 
bullet  into  my  brain  ;  for  I  had  rather  go  without  rest 
altogether,  than  sleep  in  the  bed  of  honour.  So  far 
from  understanding  the  ambition  of  being  turned  to 
dust,  I  hold  with  the  old  adage  about  the  living  dog  and 
the  dead  lion.  I  am  pigeon-livered,  and  lack  gall  to 
encounter  the  stern  scythe-bearing  skeleton.  When  I 
return  to  the  land  of  fogs  I  may  get  courage  to  look 
him  in  the  skull ;  but  it  unnerves  one  to  think  of  quit- 
ting such  delicious  skies,  and  rustling  copses,  and  thick- 
flowered  meads,  and  Favonian  gales,  as  these  which 
now  surround  me  ;  and  it  is  intolerable  to  reflect,  that 
yonder  blazing  sun  may  shine  upon  my  grave  without 
imparting  to  me  any  portion  of  his  cheerful  warmth,  or 
that  the  blackbird,  whom  I  now  hear  warbling  as  if  his 
heart  were  running  over  with  joy,  may  perch  upon  my 
tombstone  without  my  hearing  a  single  note  of  his 
song.  « 

As  it  has  been  thought  that  the  world  existed  many 


THE    WORLD.  173 


ages  without  any  inhabitants  whatever,  was  next  sub- 
jected to  the  empire  of  brutes,  and  now  constitutes  the 
dominion  of  man,  it  would  seem  likely,  that  in  its  pro- 
gressive advancement  to  higher  destinies  it  may  ulti- 
mately have  lords  of  the  creation  much  superior  to  our- 
selves, who  may  speak  compassionately  of  the  degrada- 
tion it  experienced  under  human  possession,  and  con- 
gratulate themselves  on  the  extinction  of  that  pugna- 
cious and  mischievous  biped  called  Man.  The  face  of 
Nature  is  still  young ;  it  exhibits  neither  wrinkles  nor 
decay  ;  whether  radiant  with  smiles  or  awfully  beautiful 
in  frowns,  it  is  still  enchanting,  and  not  less  fraught 
with  spiritual  than  material  attractions,  if  we  do  but 
know  how  to  moralize  upon  her  features  and  present- 
ments. To  consider,  for  instance,  this  balmy  air  which 
is  gently  waving  the  branches  of  a  chestnut-tree  before 
my  eyes — what  a  mysterious  element  it  is  !  Powerful 
enough  to  shipwreck  navies,  and  tear  up  the  deep-grap- 
pling oak,  yet  so  subtle  as  to  be  invisible,  and  so  delicate 
as  not  to  wound  the  naked  eye.  Naturally  imperisha- 
ble, who  can  imagine  all  the  various  purposes  to  which 
the  identical  portion  may  have  been  applied,  which  I  am 
at  this  instant  inhaling  ?  Perhaps  at  the  creation  it 
served  to  modulate  into  words  the  sublime  command, 
"  Let  there  be  light,"  when  the  blazing  sun  rolled  itself 
together,  and  upheaved  from  chaos  : — perhaps  impelled 
by  the  jealous  Zephyrus,  it  urged  Apollo's  quoit  against 
the  blue- veined  forehead  of  Hyacinthus  ; — it  may  per- 
chance have  filled  the  silken  sails  of  Cleopatra's  vessel, 
as  she  floated  down  the  Cydnus ;  or  have  burst  from  the 
mouth  of  Cicero  in  the  indignant  exordium — "  Quous- 
que  tandem  abutere,  Catilina,  patientia  nostra  ?"  or  his 


374  GAIKTiES     AND    GRAVITIES. 

still  more  abrupt  exclamation,  "  Abiit — evasit — excessit 
— erupit!"  It  may  liave  given  breath  to  utter  the  noble 
dying  speeches  of  Socrates  in  his  prison,  of  Sir  Philip 
Sidney  on  the  plains  of  Zutphen,  of  Russell  at  the  block. 
But  the  same  inexhaustible  element  which  would  supply 
endless  matter  for  my  reflections,  may  perhaps  pass  into 
the  mouth  of  the  reader,  and  be  vented  in  a  peevish — 
•*  Psha !  somewhat  too  much  of  this," — and  I  shall 
therefore  hasten  to  take  my  leave  of  him,  claiming  some 
share  of  credit,  that  when  so  ample  a  range  was  before 
me,  my  speculations  should  so  soon,  like  the  witches  in 
Macbeth,  have  "  made  themselves  air,  into  which  they 
vanished." 


THE  FIRST  OF  MARCH. 

THE  bud  is  in  the  bough,  and  the  leaf  is  in  the  bud, 
And  Earth's  beginning  now  in  her  veins  to  feel  the  blood, 
Which,  warra'd  by  summer  suns  in  th'  alembic  of  the  vine, 
From  her  founts  will  over-run  in  a  ruddy  gush  of  wine. 

The  perfume  and  the  bloom  that  shall  decorate  the  flower, 
Are  quickening  in  the  gloom  of  their  subterranean  bower; 
And  the  juices  meant  to  feed  trees,  vegetables,  fruits, 
Unerringly  proceed  to  their  pre-appointed  roots. 

How  awful  is  the  thought  of  the  wonders  underground, 
Of  the  mystic  changes  wrought  in  the  silent,  dark  profound; 
How  each  thing  upward  tends  by  necessity  decreed, 
And  a  world's  support  depends  on  the  shooting  of  a  seed  I 

The  Summer's  in  her  ark,  and  this  sunny-pinion'd  day 

Is  commission'd  to  remark  whether  Winter  holds  her  sway : 


THE    ELOQUENCE    OF    EYES.  175 

Go  back,  thou  dove  of  peace,  with  the  myrtle  on  thy  wing, 
Say  that  floods  arid  tempests  cease,  and  the  world  is  ripe  for 
Spring. 

Thou  hast  fann'd  the  sleeping  Earth  till  her  dreams  are  all  of 

flowers, 

And  the  waters  look  in  mirth  for  their  overhanging  bowers ; 
The  forest  seems  to  listen  for  the  rustle  of  its  leaves, 
And  the  very  skies  to  glisten  in  the  hope  of  summer  eves. 

Thy  vivifying  spell  has  been  felt  beneath  the  wave, 
By  the  dormouse  in  its  cell,  and  the  mole  within  its  cave ; 
And  the  summer  tribes  that  creep,  or  in  air  expand  their  wing, 
Have  started  from  their  sleep  at  the  summons  of  the  Spring. 

The  cattle  lift  their  voices  from  the  valleys  and  the  hills, 
And  the  feather'd  race  rejoices  with  a  gush  of  tuneful  bills ; 
And  if  this  cloudless  arch  fills  the  poet's  song  with  glee, 
O  thou  sunny  first  of  March,  be  it  dedicate  to  thee. 


THE  ELOQUENCE    OF  EYES. 


-  Nor  doth  the  eye  itself, 


That  most  pure  spirit  of  sense,  behold  itself, 
Not  going  from  itself;  but  eyes  opposed 

Salute  each  other  with  each  other's  form 

SHAKSPEA.RB. 

THE  origin  of  language  is  a  puzzling  point,  of  which 
no  satisfactory  solution  has  yet  been  offered.  Children 
could  not  originally  have  compounded  it,  for  they 
would  always  want  intelligence  to  construct  any  thing 
so  complicated  and  difficult ;  and  as  it  is  known  that 
after  a  certain  age  the  organs  of  speech,  if  they  have 
not  been  called  into  play,  lose  their  flexibility,  it  is  con- 


176  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

tended,  that  adults  possessing  the  faculties  to  combine  a 
new  language,  would  want  the  power  to  express  it. 
Divine  inspiration  is  the  only  clue  that  presents  itself  in 
this  emergency ;  and  we  are  then  driven  upon  the  in- 
credibility of  supposing  that  celestial  ears  and  organs 
could  ever  have  been  instrumental  in  originating  the  Low 
Dutch,  in  which  language  an  assailant  of  Voltaire  drew 
upon  himself  the  memorable  retort  from  the  philosopher, 
"  That  he  wished  him  more  wit  and  fewer  consonants.*' 
No  one,  however,  seems  to  have  contemplated  the  possi- 
bility that  Nature  never  meant  us  to  speak,  any  more 
than  the  parrot,  to  whom  she  has  given  similar  powers 
of  articulation  ;  or  to  have  speculated  upon  the  extent 
of  the  substitutes  she  has  provided,  supposing  that  man 
had  never  discovered  the  process  of  representing  appe- 
tites, feelings,  and  ideas  by  sound.  Grief,  joy,  anger, 
and  some  of  the  simple  passions,  express  themselves  by 
similar  intelligible  exclamations  in  all  countries  ;  these, 
therefore,  may  be  considered  as  the  whole  primitive 
language  of  Nature ;  but  if  she  had  left  the  rest  of  her 
vocabulary  to  be  conveyed  by  human  features  and  ges- 
tures, man,  by  addressing  himself  to  the  eyes  instead  of 
the  ears,  would  have  still  possessed  a  medium  of  com- 
munication nearly  as  specific  as  speech,  with  the  great 
advantage  of  its  being  silent  as  the  telegraph.  Talking 
with  his  features  instead  of  his  tongue,  he  would  not 
only  save  all  the  time  lost  in  unravelling  the  subtleties 
of  the  grammarians  from  Priscian  to  Lily  and  Lindley 
Murray,  but  he  wonld  instantly  become  a  cosmopolitan, 
a  citizen  of  the  world,  and  might  travel  "  from  old  Be- 
lerium  to  the  northern  main,"  without  needing  an  in- 
terpreter. 


THE    ELOQUENCE    OF    EYES.  177 

We  are  not  hastily  to  pronounce  against  the  possi- 
bility of  carrying  this  dumb  eloquence  to  a  certain  point 
of  perfection,  for  the  experiment  has  never  been  fairly 
tried.  We  know  that  the  exercise  of  cultivated  reason, 
and  the  arts  of  civilized  life,  have  eradicated  many  of 
our  original  instincts,  and  that  the  loss  of  any  one 
sense  invariably  quickens  the  others ;  and  we  may 
therefore  conjecture  that  many  of  the  primitive  conver- 
sational powers  of  our  face  have  perished  from  disuse, 
while  we  may  be  certain  that  those  which  still  remain 
would  be  prodigiously  concentrated  and  exalted,  did 
they  form  the  sole  medium  by  which  our  mind  could 
develope  itself.  But  we  have  no  means  of  illustrating 
this  notion,  for  the  wild  boys  and  men  who  have  from 
time  to  time  been  caught  in  the  woods,  have  been  al- 
ways solitaries,  who,  wanting  the  stimulus  of  commu- 
nion, have  never  exercised  their  faculties  ;  while  the 
deaf  and  dumb  born  among  ourselves,  early  instructed 
to  write  and  talk  with  their  fingers,  have  never  called 
forth  their  natural  resources  and  instructive  powers  of 
expression. 

Without  going  so  far  as  the  Frenchman  who  main- 
tained that  speech  was  given  to  us  to  conceal  our 
thoughts,  it  is  certain  that  we  may,  even  now,  convey 
them  pretty  accurately  without  the  intervention  of  the 
tongue.  To  a  certain  extent  every  body  talks  with  his 
own  countenance,  and  puts  faith  in  the  indications  of 
those  which  he  encounters.  The  basis  of  physiognomy, 
that  the  face  is  the  silent  echo  of  the  heart,  is  substan- 
tially true ;  and  to  confine  ourselves  to  one  feature — 
the  eye — I  would  ask  what  language,  what  oratory 
can  be  more  voluble  and  instinct  with  meaning  than 
8* 


178  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

the  telegraphic  glances  of  the  eye  ?  So  convinced  are 
we  of  this  property,  that  we  familiarly  talk  of  a  man 
having  an  expressive,  a  speaking,  an  eloquent  eye.  I 
have  always  had  a  firm  belief  th  at  the  celestials  have 
no  other  medium  of  conversation,  but  that,  carrying  on 
a  colloquy  of  glances,  they  avoid  all  the  wear  and  tear 
of  lungs,  and  all  the  vulgarity  of  human  vociferation. 
N  ay,  we  frequently  do  this  ourselves.  By  a  silent  in- 
terchange of  looks,  when  listening  to  a  third  party,  how 
completely  may  two  people  keep  up  a  by-play  of  con- 
versation, and  express  their  mutual  incredulity,  anger, 
disgust,  contempt,  amazement,  grief,  or  languor.  Speech 
is  a  laggard  and  a  sloth,  but  the  eyes  shoot  out  an 
electric  fluid  that  condenses  all  the  elements  of  senti- 
ment and  passion  in  one  single  emanation.  Conceive 
what  a  boundless  range  of  feeling  is  included  between 
the  two  extremes  of  the  look  serene  and  the  smooth 
brow,  and  the  contracted  frown  with  the  glaring  eye. 
What  varieties  of  sentiment  in  the  mere  fluctuation  of 
its  lustre,  from  the  fiery  flash  of  indignation  to  the 
twinkle  of  laughter,  the  soft  beaming  of  compassion, 
and  the  melting  radiance  of  love !  "  Oculi  sunt  in 
amore  duces,"  says  Propertius ;  an  d  certainly  he  who 
has  never  known  the  tender  passion  knows  not  half  the 
copiousness  of  the  ocular  language,  for  it  is  in  those 
prophetic  mirrors  that  every  lover  first  traces  the  reflec- 
tion of  his  own  attachment,  or  reads  the  secret  of  his 
rejection,  long  before  it  is  promulgated  by  the  tardy 
tongue.  It  required  very  little  imagination  to  fancy  a 
thousand  Cupids  perpetually  hovering  about  the  eyes  of 
beauty, — a  conceit  which  is  accordingly  found  among 
the  earliest  creations  of  the  Muse.  'Twas  not  the  war- 


THE    ELOQUENCE    OF    EYES.  .179 

rior's    dart,    says    Anacreon,    that    made    my   bosom 
bleed, — 

-    No— from  an  eye  of  liquid  blue 
A  host  of  quiver'd  Cupids  flew, 
And  now  my  heart  all  bleeding  lies 
Beneath  this  army  of  the  eyes. 

And  we  may  take  one  specimen  from  innumerable 
others  in  the  Greek  Anthology. 

Archer  Love,  though  slily  creeping, 
Well  I  know  where  thou  dost  lie ; 

I  saw  thee  from  the  curtain  peeping 
That  fringes  Zenophelia's  eye. 

The  moderns  have  dallied  with  similar  conceits  till 
they  have  become  so  frivolous  and  threadbare  as  to  be 
now  pretty  nearly  abandoned  to  the  inditers  of  Valen- 
tines, and  the  manufacturers  of  Yauxhall  songs. 

The  old  French  author  Bretonnayau,  not  content 
with  lamenting,  like  Milton,  that  so  precious  an  organ 
as  the  eye  should  have  been  so  limited  and  vulnerable, 
considers  it,  in  his  "  Fabrique  de  1'CEil,"  as  a  bodily 
sun  possessing  powers  analogous  to  the  solar  orb,  and 
treats  it  altogether  as  a  sublime  mystery  and  celestial 
symbol.  A  short  extract  may  show  the  profundity  of 
his  numerical  and  astronomical  views : 

"D'uii — de  trois — et  de  sept,  a  Dieu  agreVble, 
Fut  compose  de  1'ceil  la  machine  admirable. 

0 

Le  nerf  et  le  christal,  Teau  et  le  verre  pers, 

Sont  les  quatre  e*l<§mens  du  minime  univers ; 

Les  sept  guimples  luisans  qui  son  rondeau  contournent, 

Ce  sont  les  sept  errans,  qui  au  grand  monde  tonrnent> 


180  -  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

Car  le  blanc  qui  recouvre  et  raffermit  nos  yeux, 
Nous  figure  Saturne  entre  ces  petits  creux,"  <fcc.  <fec. 

And  yet  all  this  mysticism  is  scarcely  more  extrava- 
gant than  the  power  of  witchcraft  or  fascination  which 
was  supposed  to  reside  in  the  eyes,  and  obtained  im- 
plicit credence  in  the  "past  ages.  This  infection,  whe- 
ther malignant  or  amorous,  was  generally  supposed  to 
be  conveyed  in  a  slanting  regard,  that  "jealous  leer 
malign,"  with  which  Satan  contemplated  the  happiness 
of  our  first  parents. 

"  Non  istic  obliquo  oculo  mea  commoda  quisquam 
Limat,  non  odio  obscuro,  morsuque  venenat," 

says  Horace ;  and  Virgil  makes  the  shepherd  exclaim, 
in  his  third  eclogue, 

"  Kescio  quis  teneros  oculus  mihi  fascinat  agnos." 

Basilisks,  cockatrices,  and  certain  serpents,  were  fabled 
not  only  to  have  the  power  of  bewitching  the  birds 
from  the  air,  but  of  killing  men  with  a  look — a  mode 
of  destruction  which  is  now  limited  to  the  exaggerations 
of  those  modern  fabulists  yclept  poets  and  lovers. 

Every  difference  of  shape  is  found  in  this  variform 
organ,  from  the  majestic  round  orb  of  Homer's  ox-eyed 
Juno,  to  that  thin  slit  from  which  the  vision  of  a  Chi- 
nese lazily  oozes  forth  ;  but  in  this,  as  in  other  instan- 
ces, the  happy  medium  is  nearest  to  the  line  of  beauty. 
If  there  be  any  deviation,  it  should  be  towards  the  full 
rotund  eye,  which  although  it  be  apt  to  convey  an  ex- 
pression of  staring  hauteur,  is  still  susceptible  of  great 
dignity  and  beauty  ;  while  the  contrary  tendency  zip- 


THE    ELOQUENCE    OF    EYES.  181 

proximates  continually  towards  the  mean  and  the  sus- 
picious. 

As  there  is  no  standard  of  beauty,  there  is  no  pro- 
nouncing decisively  upon  the  question  of  colour.  The 
a ancient  classical  writers  assigned  to  Minerva,  and  other 
of  the  deities,  eyes  of  heaven's  own  azure  as  more 
appropriate  and  celestial.  Among  the  early  Italian 
writers,  the  beauties  were  generally  blondes,  being  pro- 
bably considered  the  most  estimable  on  account  of  their 
rarity ;  and  Tasso,  describing  the  blue  eyes  of  Armida, 
says  with  great  elegance, 

"Within  her  humid  melting  eyes 
A  brilliant  ray  of  laughter  lies, 
Soft  as  the  broken  solar  beam 
That  trembles  in  the  azure  stream." 

Our  own  writer  Collins,  speaking  of  the  Circassians, 
eulogizes  "  Their  eyes'  blue  languish,  and  their  golden 
hair,"  with  more  beauty  of  language  than  fidelity  as 
to  fact ;  but  our  poets  in  general  give  the  palm  to  that 
which  is  least  common  among  ourselves,  and  are  ac- 
cordingly enraptured  with  brunettes  and  dark  eyes. 
When  Shakspeare  bestowed  green  eyes  upon  the  mon- 
ster Jealousy,  he  was  not  probably  aware  that  about 
the  time  of  the  Crusades  there  was  a  prodigious  pas- 
sion for  orbs  of  this  hue.  Thiebault,  king  of  Navarre, 
depicting  a  beautiful  shepherdess  in  one  of  his  songs, 


"  La  Pastore  est  bele  et  avenant> 
Elle  a  les  eus  vairs," 

which  phrase,  however,  has  been  conjectured  to  mean 


182  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

hazel ;  an  interpretation  which  will  allow  me  to  join 
issue  with  his  Majesty,  and  approve  his  taste.  But 
taste  itself  is  so  fluctuating,  that  we  may  live  to  see 
the  red  eye  of  the  Albinos  immortalised  in  verse,  or  that 
species  of  plaid  recorded  by  Dryden — 

"  The  balls  of  his  broad  eyes  roll'd  in  his  head, 
And  glared  betwixt  a  yellow  and  a  red." 

For  my  own  part,  I  decidedly  prefer  the  hue  of  that 
which  is  now  bent  upon  the  page,  for  I  hold  that  an 
indulgent  eye,  like  a  good  horse,  cannot  be  of  a  bad 
colour. 

My  paper  would  be  incomplete  without  a  word  or 
two  upon  eyebrows,  which,  it  is  to  be  observed,  are  pe- 
culiar to  man,  and  were  intended,  according  to  the  physi- 
ologists, to  prevent  particles  of  dust  or  perspiration  from 
rolling  into  the  eye.  Nothing  appears  to  me  more  im- 
pertinent than  the  fancied  penetration  of  these  human 
moles,  who  are  for  ever  attributing  imaginary  intentions 
to  inscrutable  Nature ;  nor  more  shallow  and  pedlar-like 
than  their  resolving  every  thing  into  a  use ;  as  if  they 
could  not  see,  in  the  gay  colours  and  delicious  perfumes, 
and  mingled  melodies  lavished  upon  the  earth,  sufficient 
evidence  that  the  beneficent  Creator  was  not  satisfied 
with  mere  utility,  but  combined  with  it  a  profusion  of 
gratuitous  beauty  and  delight.  I  dare  say  that  they 
would  rather  find  a  use  for  the  coloured  eyes  of  Argus 
in  the  peacock's  tail,  than  admit  that  the  human  eye- 
brows could  have  been  bestowed  for  mere  ornament 
and  expression.  Yet  they  have  been  deemed  the  lead- 
ing indices  of  various  passions.  Homer  makes  them 
the  seat  of  majesty — Virgil  of  dejection — Horace  of 


ADDRESS  TO  THE  ALABASTER  SARCOPHAGUS.   183 

modesty —  Juvenal  of  pride — and  we  ourselves  consi- 
der them  such  intelligible  exponents  of  scorn  and 
haughtiness,  that  we  have  adopted  from  them  our  word 
supercilious.  In  lively  faces  they  have  a  language  of 
their  own,  and  can  aptly  represent  all  the  sentiments 
and  passions  of  the  mind,  even  when  they  are  purposely 
repressed  in  the  eye.  By  the  workings  of  a  line  just 
above  a  lady's  eyebrows,  much  may  be  discovered  that 
could  never  be  read  in  the  face ;  and  by  this  means  I 
am  enabled  to  detect  in  the  looks  of  my  fair  readers 
such  a  decided  objection  to  any  farther  inquisition  into 
their  secret  thoughts,  that  I  deem  it  prudent  to  exclaim, 
in  the  language  of  Oberon — "Lady,  I  kiss  thine  eye, 
and  so  good  night." 


ADDRESS  TO  THE  ALABASTER  SARCOPHAGUS, 

LATELY    DEPOSITED    IN   THE   BRITISH   MUSEUM. 

THOU  alabaster  relic !  while  I  hold 

My  hand  upon  thy  sculptured  margin  thrown, 
Let  me  recall  the  scenes  thou  couldst  unfold, 

Mightst  thou  relate  the  changes  thou  hast  known, 
For  thou  wert  primitive  in  thy  formation, 
Launched  from  th'  Almighty's  hand  at  the  Creation. 

Yes — thou  wert  present  when  the  stars  and  skies 
And  worlds  unnumber'd  roll'd  into  their  places; 

When  God  from  Chaos  bade  the  spheres  arise, 
And  fix'd  the  blazing  sun  upon  its  basis, 

And  with  his  finger  on  the  bounds  of  space 

Mark'd  out  each  planet's  everlasting  race. 


184  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

How  many  thousand  ages  from  thy  birth 
Thou  sleptst  in  darkness,  it  were  vain  to  ask, 

Till  Egypt's  sons  upheaved  thee  from  the  earth, 
And  year  by  year  pursued  their  patient  task ; 

Till  thou  wert  carved  and  decorated  thus, 

Worthy  to  be  a  King's  Sarcophagus. 

What  time  Elijah  to  the  skies  ascended, 

Or  David  reign'd  in  holy  Palestine, 
Some  ancient  Theban  monarch  was  extended 

Beneath  the  lid  of  this  emblazon'd  shrine, 
And  to  that  subterranean  palace  borne 
Which  toiling  ages  in  the  rock  had  worn. 

Thebes  from  her  hundred  portals  fill'd  the  plain 
To  see  the  car  on  which  thou  wert  upheld : — 

What  funeral  pomps  extended  in  thy  train, 

What  banners  waved,  what  mighty  music  swell'd, 

As  armies,  priests,  and  crowds,  bewail'd  in  chorus 

Their  King — their  God — their  Serapis — their  Orus ! 

Thus  to  thy  second  quarry  did  they  trust 
Thee  and  the  Lord  of  all  the  nations  round. 

Grim  King  of  Silence !  Monarch  of  the  dust ! 

Embalm'd — anointed — jewell'd — scepter'd — crown'd, 

Here  did  he  lie  in  state,  cold,  stiff,  and  stark, 

A  leathern  Pharaoh  grinning  in  the  dark. 

Thus  ages  roll'd — but  their  dissolving  breath 
Could  only  blacken  that  imprison'd  thing, 

Which  wore  a  ghastly  royalty  in  death, 
As  if  it  struggled  still  to  be  a  King ; 

And  each  revolving  century,  like  the  last, 

Just  dropp'd  its  dust  upon  thy  lid — and  pass'd. 

' 

The  Persian  conqueror  o'er  Egypt  pour'd 
His  devastating  host — a  motley  crew ; 


ADDRESS  TO  THE  ALABASTER  SARCOPHAGUS.   185 

The  steel-clad  horsemen — the  barbarian  horde — 

Music  and  men  of  every  sound  and  hue — 
Priests,  archers,  eunuchs,  concubines  and  brutes — 
Gongs,  trumpets,  cymbals,  dulcimers,  and  lutes. 

Then  did  the  fierce  Cambyses  tear  away 

The  ponderous  rock  that  seal'd  the  sacred  tomb ; 

Then  did  the  slowly  penetrating  ray 

Redeem  thee  from  long  centuries  of  gloom, 

And  lower'd  torches  flash'd  against  thy  side 

As  Asia's  king  thy  blazon'd  trophies  eyed. 

Pluck'd  from  his  grave,  with  sacrilegious  taunt, 
The  features  of  the  royal  corpse  they  scann'd : — 

Dashing  the  diadem  from  his  temple  gaunt, 
They  tore  the  sceptre  from  his  graspless  hand, 

And  on  those  fields,  where  once  his  will  was  law, 

Left  him  for  winds  to  waste,  and  beasts  to  gnaw. 

Some  pious  Thebans,  when  the  storm  was  past^ 
Unclosed  the  sepulchre  with  cunning  skill, 

And  nature,  aiding  their  devotion,  cast 
Over  its  entrance  a  concealing  rill. 

Then  thy  third  darkness  came,  and  thou  didst  sleep 

Twenty-three  centuries  in  silence  deep. 

But  he  from  whom  nor  pyramid  nor  sphinx 

Can  hide  its  secrecies,  Belzoni,  came ; 
From  the  tomb's  mouth  unloosed  the  granite  links, 

Gave  thee  again  to  light,  and  life,  and  fame, 
And  brought  thee  from  the  sands  and  desert  forth 
To  charm  the  pallid  children  of  the  North. 

Thou  art  in  London,  which,  when  thou  wert  new, 

Was,  what  Thebes  is,  a  wilderness  and  waste,  ^ 

Where  savage  beasts  more  savage  men  pursue, — 
A  scene  by  Nature  cursed — by  man  disgraced. 

Now — 'tis  the  world's  metropolis — the  high 

Queen  of  arms,  learning,  arts,  and  luxury. 


186  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

Here,  where  I  hold  my  hand,  'tis  strange  to  think 
What  other  hands  perchance  preceded  mine ; 

Others  have  also  stood  beside  thy  brink, 
And  vainly  conn'd  the  moralizing  line. 

Kings,  sages,  chiefs,  that  touch'd  this  stone,  like  me, 

Where  are  ye  now  ? — where  all  must  shortly  be ! 

All  is  mutation  ; — he  within  this  stone 

Was  once  the  greatest  monarch  of  the  hour : — 

His  bones  are  dust — his  very  name  unknown. 
Go— learn  from  him  the  vanity  of  power : 

Seek  not  the  frame's  corruption  to  control, 

But  build  a  lasting  mansion  for  thy  soul. 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  HAUNCH  OF  MUTTON. 

"I,  in  this  kind  of  merry  fooling,  am  nothing  to  you ;  so  you  may  con- 
tinue and  laugh  at  nothing  still." The  Tempest, 

THIS  is  the  age  for  Memoirs,  particularly  of  royalty. 
Napoleon  is  making  almost  as  much  noise  after  his 
death  as  he  did  in  his  life- time ;  Marie  Antoinette,  by 
the  assistance  of  Madame  de  Campan,  has  obtained  a 
revival  of  her  notoriety ;  and  Louis  Dix-huit  has  effect- 
ed his  escape  to  Coblentz  only  to  fall  into  the  claws  of 
the  critics,  by  proving  that  every  king  is  not  a  Solomon. 
This  epidemic  is  understood  to  be  spreading  among  the 
rulers  of  the  earth,  and  several  of  the  London  booksell- 
ers have  already  started  for  different  capitals  of  Eu- 
rrope,  for  the  purpose,  it  is  said,  of  treating  with  crown- 
ed authors.  Fortunately  there  is  no  royal  road  to 
biography,  any  more  than  to  geometry ;  the  right  di- 
vine does  not  include  all  the  good  writing,  nor  has 


MEMOIRS    OF    A    HAUNCH    OF    MUTTON.  187 

legitimacy  any  exclusive  alliance  with  Priscian.  Men 
who  have  brains  inside  may  scribble  as  well  as  those 
who  have  crowns  outside ;  beggars  and  thieves  have 
given  their  own  lives  to  the  public ;  nay,  even  things 
inanimate — a  wonderful  lamp,  a  splendid  shilling,  a 
guinea,  have  found  historians ;  why  then  should  the 
lords  of  the  creation  have  all  the  Memoirs  to  them- 
selves ?  or  why  may  not  we  immortalise  "  The  Haunch 
of  Mutton  ?"  which,  for  aught  that  appears  to  the  con- 
trary, may  claim  a  rectilinear  descent  from  the  Royal 
Ram  eternized  by  Mother  Bunch,  and  so  be  entitled  to 
rank  with  the  best  imperial  or  kingly  records  that  are 
now  issuing  from  the  Row.  Into  this  investigation,  cu- 
rious as  it  would  be,  it  is  not  my  purpose  to  enter ;  it 
would  be  irrelevant  to  my  title,  which  has  only  refe- 
rence to  sheep  after  they  are  dead,  and  designated  as 
mutton  ;  but  I  cannot  refrain  from  noticing  that,  even 
in  this  point  of  view,  the  subject  I  have  chosen  is  poet- 
ical :  for  a  poet,  like  a  Merino  or  South  Down,  is  annu- 
ally fleeced  and  sheared,  and  at  last  cut  up  by  the  crit- 
ical dissectors :  but  he  is  no  sooner  dead  than  he 
acquires  a  new  name ;  we  sit  down  to  his  perusal  with 
great  satisfaction,  make  repeated  extracts  which  we  find 
entirely  to  our  taste,  and  talk  complacently  of  his  rich 
vein,  ready  flow,  his  sweetness,  tenderness,  and  so  forth. 
Suffice  it  to  say,  that  the  sheep  from  which  our  hero, 
/.  e.  our  haunch,  was  cut,  drew  breath  in  the  pastures 
of  Farmer  Blewett,  of  Sussex,  whose  brother,  Mr.  Wil- 
liam Blewett,  (commonly  called  Billy),  of  Great  St.  He- 
len's, in  the  city  of  London,  is  one  of  the  most  eminent 
Indigo-brokers  in  the  Metropolis.  The  farmer  having  a 
son  fourteen  years  of  age,  whom  he  was  anxious  to 


188  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

place  in  the  counting  house  of  the  said  Billy,  very  pru- 
dently began  by  filling  his  brother's  mouth  before  he 
opened  his  own,  and  had  accordingly  sent  him  an  enor- 
mous turkey  at  Christmas,  a  side  of  fat  bacon  at  Easter, 
and  at  Midsummer  the  identical  haunch  of  South  Down 
mutton  whose  dissection  and  demolition  we  have  under- 
taken to  immortalise.  Ever  attentive  to  the  main  chance, 
the  broker  began  to  calculate  that  if  he  asked  three  or 
four  friends  to  dine  with  him  he  could  only  eat  mutton 
for  one,  while  he  would  have  to  find  wine  for  the  whole 
party ;  whereas,  if  he  presented  it  to  Alderman  Sir 
Peter  Pumpkin,  of  Broad-street,  who  was  a  dear  lover 
of  good  mutton,  and  had  besides  lately  received  a  con- 
signment of  Indigo  of  which  he  was  anxious  to  propi- 
tiate the  brokerage,  he  might  not  only  succeed  in  that 
object,  but  be  probably  asked  to  dinner,  get  his  full 
share  of  the  haunch,  and  drink  that  wine  which  he  pre- 
ferred to  all  others — videlicet,  that  which  he  tippled  at 
other  people's  expense.  Whether  or  not  he  succeeded 
in  the  former  aim,  our  documents  do  not  testify ;  but 
certain  it  is,  that  he  was  invited  to  partake  of  the  haunch 
in  Broad-street,  (not  being  deemed  a  presentable  per- 
sonage at  the  Baronet's  establishment  in  Devonshire- 
place);  Mr.  Robert  Rule,  Sir  Peter's  Bookkeeper  and 
head  clerk,  who  presided  over  the  City  household,  was 
asked  to  meet  him,  as  well  as  his  nephew,  Mr.  Henry 
Pumpkin,  a  young  collegian,  whose  affection  for  his 
uncle  induced  him  to  run  up  to  London  whenever  his 
purse  became  attenuated,  and  who,  in  his  progress  to- 
wards qualifying  himself  for  the  church,  had  already 
learnt  to  tie  a  cravat,  drive  a  tandem,  drink  claret,  and 
make  bad  puns.  Four  persons,  as  the  Baronet  observ- 


MEMOIRS    OF    A    HAUNCH    OF    MUTTON.  189 

ed,  were  quite  enough  for  a  haunch  of  mutton,  and  too 
many  for  one  of  venison. 

"  I  shouldn't  have  waited  for  you,  Harry,"  exclaimed 
the  Baronet,  as  his  nephew  entered.  "No  occasion, 
Sir  ;  I  am  always  punctual — Boileau  says,  that  the  time 
a  man  makes  a  company  wait  for  him  is  always  spent 
in  discovering  his  faults." — "  Does  he  ?  then  he's  a  sen- 
sible fellow ;  and  if  he's  a  friend  of  yours,  you  might 
have  brought  him  to  dinner  with  you. — But  you  needn't 
have  made  yourself  such  a  dandy,  Harry,  merely  to 
dine  at  the  counting-house." — "  Why,  Sir,  as  I  expected 
the  dinner  to  be  well  dressed  for  me,  I  thought  I  could 
not  do  less  than  return  the  compliment." — "  Ha !  ha  ! 
ha !  do  you  hear  that,  Billy  ? — not  a  bad  one,  was  it  ? 
Egad,  Harry  doesn't  go  to  College  for  nothing.  But 
there's  the  '  Change  clock  chiming  for  five,  and  we 
ought  to  have  dinner.  Ay,  I  remember  when  four  was 
the  hour,  and  a  very  good  hour  too." — "I  lately  tum- 
bled upon  a  letter  of  Addison's  to  Swift,"  interrupted 
Henry,  "dated  29th  Feb.  1707,  inviting  him  to  meet 
Steele  and  Frowde  at  the  George,  in  Pall-mall,  at  two 
o'clock,  which  was  then  the  fashionable  hour.  And 
apropos  of  haunches,  I  remember  reading,  that  in  1720, 
the  year  of  the  South  Sea  bubble,  owing  to  the  fancied 
riches  suddenly  flowing  in  upon  the  citizens,  a  haunch 
of  venison  rose  to  the  then  unexampled  value  of  five 
guineas,  so  that  deer  were  dear  indeed  for  one  season." 
— "  A  fine  thing  to  have  been  owner  of  a  herd  that  year," 
said  Mr.  Blewett. — "  Capital !"  observed  Mr.  Rule,  with 
an  emphatic  jerk  of  the  head. — "  In  the  mean  time, 
where  is  our  haunch  of  mutton  ?"  inquired  the  Alder- 
man : — "  do,  pray,  Mr.  Rule,  see  about  it — the  cook  used 


190  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

to  be  punctual,  and  it  is  now  two  minutes  and  a  half 
past  five."  Mr.  Rule  bowed  and  disappeared,  but  pre- 
sently returned,  announcing  that  dinner  was  served. 

Sir  Peter  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table,  and  as  Philip 
the  servant  was  about  to  remove  the  cover,  laid  his  hand 
upon  his  arm  to  stop  him,  until  he  was  provided  with 
a  hot  plate,  vegetables,  and  sweet  sauce,  so  as  to  be  all 
ready  for  the  attack  when  the  trenches  were  opened. 
"  Beautiful !"  he  exclaimed,  as  the  joint  was  revealed  to 
him  ;  "  done  to  a  turn — admirably  frothed  up !"  So  ex- 
claiming, he  helped  himself  plenteously  to  the  best 
part,  and  pushing  away  the  dish  said,  "  he  had  no  doubt 
the  others  would  rather  help  themselves."  Mr.  Rule, 
who  had  not  yet  achieved  independence  enough  to  be 
clownish,  volunteered  to  supply  his  neighbours,  which 
he  did  so  clumsily,  that  Harry  declared  he  should  never 
be  his  joint  executor ;  and  Mr.  Blewett  applied  his  more 
experienced  hand  to  the  task.  For  the  first  ten  min- 
utes so  much  went  into  the  Baronet's  mouth  that  there 
was  no  room  for  a  single  word  to  come  out ;  but,  as  his 
voracity  became  gratified,  he  found  leisure  to  ask  his 
guests  to  drink  wine,  and  to  cackle  at  intervals  what 
he  termed  some  of  his  good  stories. — "  Clever  fellow, 
King  Charles :  they  called  him  the  mutton-eating  King, 
didn't  they  ? — cut  off  his  head,  though,  for  all  that — 
stopped  his  mutton-eating,  egad ! — I  say,  Billy,  did  I 
tell  you  what  I  said  t'other  day  to  Tommy  Daw,  the 
bill-broker  ?  Tommy's  a  Bristol  man,  you  know :  well,  I 
went  down  to  Bristol  about  our  ship,  the  Fanny,  that 
got  ashore  there." — "  The  Fanny,  Capt.  Tyson,  was  in 
Dock  at  the  time,"  interrupted  Rule ;  "  it  was  the  Ad- 
venture, Capt.  Hacklestone,  that  got  ashore." — "  Well, 


MEMOIRS    OF    A    HAUNCH    OF    MUTTON.  191 

well,  never  mind — where  was  I  ? — O,  ay  ; — so  says 
Tommy  to  me  when  I  came  back,  Is  Betsey  Bayley  as 
handsome  as  ever? — who  bears  the  bell  now  at  Bristol  ? 
— Why,  says  I — the  bellman,  to  be  sure ! — Ha !  ha  ! 
ha !  ha ! — Egad,  I  thought  Tommy  would  have  burst 
his  sides  with  laughing. — Who  bears  the  bell  at  Bris- 
tol? says  he. — Why,  the  bellman,  says  I.  Capital, 
wasn't  it  ?"— "  Capital !"  ejaculated  Mr.  Rule,  with  a 
most  decisive  energy. 

"  It's  a  pity  this  stewed  beefsteak  at  the  bottom 
should  be  wasted,"  said  Blewett ;  "  nobody  tastes  it." — 
"  It  won't  be  wasted,"  replied  Harry,  "  it  economizes  our 
dinner." — "How  so?" — "Because  it  serves  to  make 
both  ends  meet" — "  Aha  !  Billy,"  roared  the  Baronet, 
"he  had  you  there.  I  told  you  Harry  didn't  go  to  Col- 
lege for  nothing." — "  By  the  by,  Sir,"  continued  the  ne- 
phew, "  did  you  ever  hear  of  Shakspeare's  receipt  for 
dressing  a  beefsteak  ?" — "  Shakspeare's  ! — no — the  best 
I  ever  ate  were  at  Dolly's ; — but  what  is  it  ?" — "  Why, 
sir,  he  puts  it  into  the  mouth  of  Macbeth,  where  he 
makes  him  exclaim — 'If  it  were  done,  when  'tis  done, 
then  it  were  well  'twere  done  quickly.'  " — "  Good  ! 
good  !"  cackled  the  Baronet,  "  but  I  said  a  better  thing 
than  Shakspeare  last  week.  You  know  Jack  Foster 
the  common  council-man,  ugly  as  Buckhorse — gives  fa- 
mous wine  though ; — well,  we  were  talking  about  the 
best  tavern  (I'll  thank  you  for  some  sweet  sauce,  Mr. 
Rule) ;  and  so  says  I — (and  a  little  of  the  brown  fat, 
if  you  please) — and  so  says  I — Jack,  I  never  see  your 
face  without  thinking  of  a  good  dinner.  i  Why  so  ?' 
says  Jack.  Because  it's  ordinary  every  day  at  two 
o'clock,  says  I."  Here  the  Baronet  was  seized  with  such 


192  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

a  violent  fit  of  laughter,  that  it  brought  on  an  alarming 
attack  of  coughing  and  expectoration  ;  but  he  no  soon- 
er recovered  breath  enough  than  he  valiantly  repeated, 
"  Why,  so,  Jack  ? — Because  it's  ordinary  at  two  o'clock, 
says  I:"  — which  he  followed  up  with  a  new  cackle, 
while  Mr.  Rule  delivered  himself  most  dogmatically  of 
another  "  Capital !"  and  relapsed  into  his  usual  solemnity. 

"The  greatest  compliment  ever  offered  to  this  joint," 
resumed  the  nephew,  "  proceeded  from  a  popular  actor 
now  living,  who  deemed  it  the  ne  plus  ultra  of  epicur- 
ism. Having  been  a  long  time  in  London  without  see- 
ing Richmond  Hill,  he  was  taken  by  some  friends  to 
enjoy  that  noble  view,  then  in  the  perfection  of  its  sum- 
mer beauty.  The  day  was  fine — every  thing  propitious  : 
they  led  him  up  the  hill  and  along  the  dead  wall  till  he 
reached  the  Terrace,  where  the  whole  glorious  vision 
burst  upon  him  with  such  an  overpowering  effect,  that 
he  could  only  exclaim,  in  the  intensity  of  his  ecstasy, — 
i  A  perfect  Haunch,  by  Heaven !' " 

"  You  will  be  at  Kemble's  sale  to-morrow,  Sir  Peter !" 
inquired  Blewett. — "What !"  replied  the  nephew,  "  are 
poor  John  Philip's  books  to  be  sold  ?  I  shall  attend 
certainly.  I  understand  he  possessed  the  first  edition 
of  Piers  Plowman — The  Maid's  Tragedy — Gammer 
Gurton's  Needle,  and "  "  Hoity  toity  !"  interrupt- 
ed Sir  Peter :  "  what  the  deuce  is  the  lad  chattering 
about?" — "Bless  me,  Mr.  Henry,"  cried  Rule,  "you 
have  surely  seen  the  catalogue  of  the  great  sale  in  Minc- 
ing-lane,— 1714  bales  of  Pernambuco  cotton,  419  of 
Maranham,  96  hogsheads  and  14  tierces  of  Jamaica 
sugar,  311  bags  of  coffee,  and  66  casks  of  Demerara 
cocoa.  I  believe  I  can  favour  you  with  a  perusal  of  the 


MEMOIRS  OF  A  HAUNCH  OF  MUTTON.      193 

catalogue,  with  all  tbe  best  lots  marked." — "Infinitely 
obliged  to  you,"  replied  Harry,  "  but  I  had  rather  under- 
go the  lot  of  being  knocked  down  myself." 

"  Aha !"  exclaimed  the  Baronet,  with  a  look  of 
gloating  delight ;  "  now  we  shall  get  on  again.  Here 
comes  the  Argyle  with  some  hot  gravy  ; — that  was  a 
famous  invention." — "  Nothing  like  it,"  replied  Harry, 
"in  the  Marquis  of  Worcester's  whole  Century.  A 
distinguished  writer  desires  one  of  our  noble  families  to 
consider  the  name  of  Spenser  the  poet  as  the  fairest 
jewel  in  their  coronet.  May  we  not  extend  the  same 
remark  to  the  ducal  race,  whose  name  will,  by  this  dis- 
covery, be  constantly  in  our  mouths?" — "Ay,  and 
whose  celebrity  will  thus  be  kept  up,  hot  and  hot," 
added  Sir  Peter.  "  Egad,  I'll  drink  their  healths  in  a 
bumper,  and  take  another  slice  upon  the  strength  of 
it.  One  ought  to  encourage  such  ingenious  improve- 
ments." 

"  I  am  afraid,  Sir  Peter,  that  the  best  side's  all  gone," 
said  Mr.  Blewett,  with  a  whine  of  pretended  regret, 
which  had  a  prospective  reference  to  the  brokerage  on 
the  indigo.  "That  I  beg  leave  to  deny,"  retorted  Har- 
ry, "  for  it  is  one  of  the  Peptic  precepts,  that  in  politics 
and  gastronomy,  the  best  side  is  that  where  there  is 
most  to  be  got,  and  there  are  still  a  few  slices  left  under 
the  bone." — "  If  we  had  a  good  stimulating  sauce  now," 
said  the  Alderman,  "  I  could  still  go  on." — "  But  there," 
continued  the  nephew,  "  we  are  still  nearly  as  deficient 
as  we  were  in  the  time  of  Louis  Quatorze,  whose  am- 
bassador at  London  complained  that  he  had  been  sent 
among  a  set  of  barbarians,  who  had  twenty  religions 
and  only  three  fish-sauces." — "  Why,  Billy,"  cried  the 
9 


194  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 


Alderman  to  Blewett,  "  you  seem  as  down  in  the  mouth 
as  the  root  of  my  tongue ; — blue  as  your  own  indigo." 
— "  That's  a  famous  lot  of  Guatimola  you  have  just  re- 
ceived, Sir  Peter,  by  the  Two  Sisters,  Capt  Framlingham  : 
may  I  call  to  take  samples?"  — "We'll  talk  of  that  by 
and  by,  Billy :  meantime  take  a  sample  of  port ;  help 
yourself." — "He  can't  help  himself,  poor  fellow,"  said 
Harry,  "for  the  bottle's  empty."  The  Baronet  nodded 
to  Rule,  who  instantly  betook  himself  to  a  basket  in 
the  corner  of  the  room,  and  began  decanting  another 
with  mathematical  precision.  "  Take  care,  Rule,  it  won't 
bear  shaking ;  I  have  had  it  fourteen  years  in  bottle." 
— "  And  port  wine,"  observed  Harry,  "  is  like  mankind 
— the  older  it  gets,  the  more  crusty  it  becomes,  and  the 
less  will  it  bear  being  disturbed." — "A  little  tawny," 
said  the  uncle,  smacking  his  lips ;  "  I  doubt  whether 
this  is  out  of  the  right  bin." — "  No,  sir,"  replied  the  ne- 
phew ;  "  this  seems  to  be  out  of  the  has  been.  Troja 
fuit : — but  you  have  got  some  prime  claret." — "  Ay,  ay, 
we'll  have  a  touch  at  that  after  the  cloth's  cleared  ;  but 
will  nobody  take  another  mouthful  of  the  haunch  ?  the 
meat  was  short,  crisp,  and  tender,  just  as  it  ought  to  be." 
— "Capital !"  ejaculated  Rule  with  a  momentary  anima- 
tion, succeeded  by  his  habitual  look  of  formality.  "  Then 
the  table  may  be  cleared,"  continued  the  Alderman  :  "  but 
zooks !  Harry,  how  comes  it  you  never  said  grace  be- 
fore dinner  ?" — "  You  were  in  such  a  hurry,  Sir,  that 
you  forgot  to  ask  me :  it  was  but  last  week  you  called 
me  a  scapegrace,  and  I  may  now  retort  the  epithet." — 
"  Say  grace  now,  then,  saucebox." — "  I  have  not  yet 
taken  orders,  Sir  Peter." — "Yes  you  have,  you  have  ta- 
ken mine ;  so  out  with  it."  Harry  compressed  the  ben- 


BEGGARS    EXTRAORDINARY.  195 

ediction  into  five  words — the  cloth  was  removed — a 
bottle  of  Chateau  Margaud  was  placed  upon  the  table 
to  his  infinite  consolation — the  talk  quickened  with  the 
circulation  of  the  wine,  and  many  good  things  were  ut- 
tured  which  we  regret  that  we  cannot  commemorate 
without  travelling  out  of  the  record,  as  our  subject 
ceased  with  the  dinner,  being  expressly  confined  to  the 
"  Memoirs  of  a  Haunch  of  Mutton." 


BEGGARS  EXTRAORDINARY! 

PROPOSALS  FOR  THEIR  SUPPRESSION. 

I'm  bubbled,  I'm  bubbled, 
Oh,  how  I  am  troubled, 
Bamboozled  and  bit ! 

BEGGAR'S  OPERA. 

Salve  magna  parens  !  All  hail  to  the  parent  Soci- 
ety for  the  Suppression  of  Mendicity  ! — so  far  from  im- 
pugning its  merits,  I  would  applaud  them  to  the  very 
echo  that  should  applaud  again,  always  thanking 
Heaven  that  it  was  not  established  before  the  days  of 
Homer,  Belisarius,  and  Bampfylde  Moore  Carew,  in 
which  case  he  should  have  had  three  useful  fictions  the 
less,  and  lost  three  illustrations  that  have  done  yeo- 
man's service,  in  pointing  many  a  moral,  and  tagging 
as  many  tales.  That  I  reverence  the  existing  Associa- 
tion, and  duly  appreciate  its  benevolent  exertions,  is  best 
evidenced  by  my  proposal  for  a  Branch  or  Subsidiary 
Company,  not  to  interfere  with  duties  already  so  fully 
and  zealously  discharged,  but  to  take  cognizance  of  va- 


196  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

rious  classes  of  sturdy  beggars  who  do  not  come  within 
the  professed  range  of  the  original  Institution.  Men- 
dicity is  not  confined  to  the  asking  of  alms  in  the  pub- 
lic streets  ;  it  is  not  the  exclusive  profession  of  rags  and 
wretchedness,  of  the  cripple  and  the  crone,  but  is  openly 
practised  by  able-bodied  and  well-dressed  vagrants  of 
both  sexes,  who,  eluding  the  letter  of  the  law  while 
they  violate  its  spirit,  call  loudly  for  the  interference  of 
some  such  repressive  establishment  as  that  which  I  am 
now  advocating,  When  I  inform  the  reader  that  I 
live  by  my  wits,  he  will  at  once  comprehend  the  tenuity 
of  my  circumstances ;  and  when  I  hint  that  I  enact  the 
good  Samaritan  to  the  best  of  my  slender  ability,  in  all 
such  cases  as  fall  within  my  own  observation,  he  will  not 
wonder  that  I  should  wish  to  provide  some  sort  of  ama- 
teur Bridewell  for  such  personages  as  my  neighbour 
Miss  Spriggins. 

This  lady  is  universally  acknowledged  to  be  one  of 
the  very  best  creatures  in  the  world,  which  is  the  reason, 
I  suppose,  why  she  never  married,  there  being  no  in- 
stance, out  of  the  records  of  Dunmow,  of  any  wife  of 
that  description.  Her  unoccupied  time  and  affections 
followed  the  usual  routine  in  such  cases  made  and  pro- 
vided ;  that  is  to  say,  she  became  successively  a  bird- 
breeder,  a  dog-fancier,  a  blue-stocking,  and  lastly,  the 
Lady  Bountiful,  not  of  our  village  only,  (that  I  could 
tolerate,)  but  of  the  whole  district ;  in  which  capacity 
she  constitutes  a  general  dep6t  for  all  the  misfortunes 
that  really  happen,  and  a  great  many  of  those  that  do 
not.  Scarcely  a  week  elapses  that  she  does  not  call 
upon  me  with  a  heart-rending  account  of  a  poor  old 
woman  who  has  lost  her  cow,  a  small  farmer  whose  hay- 


BEGGARS    EXTRAORDINARY.  197 

stack  has  been  burnt  down,  a  shopkeeper  whose  premi- 
ses have  been  robbed  of  his  whole  stock,  or  a  widow 
who  has  been  left  with  seven  small  children,  the  eldest 
only  six  years  old,  and  that  one  a  cripple,  and  the  poor 
mother  likely  to  add  to  the  number  in  a  few  weeks ; 
upon  which  occasions  the  subscription  list  is  produced, 
beginning  with  the  name  of  Sir  David  Dewlap,  the 
great  army  contractor,  and  followed  by  those  of  nabobs, 
bankers,  merchants,  and  brokers,  (for  I  live  but  a  few 
miles  westward  of  London,)  by  whom  a  few  pounds  of 
money  can  no  more  be  missed  from  their  pockets,  than 
the  same  quantity  of  fat  from  their  sides.  My  visitant, 
knowing  the  state  of  my  purse,  is  kind  enough  to  point 
out  to  my  observation  that  some  have  given  so  low  as  a 
half-sovereign  ;  but  then  she  provokingly  adds,  that 
even  Mr.  Tag,  a  brother-scribbler  in  the  village,  has 
put  his  name  down  for  ten  shillings,  and  surely  a  per- 
son of  my  superior  talents .  Here  she  smirks,  and 

bows,  and  leaves  off;  and,  partly  in  payment  for  her 
compliment,  partly  to  prove  that  I  can  write  twice  as 
well  as  Mr.  Tag,  I  find  it  impossible  to  effect  my  ransom 
for  less  than  a  sovereign.  Thus  does  this  good  creature 
torment  me  in  every  possible  way :  first,  by  bringing 
my  feelings  in  contact  with  all  the  miseries  that  have 
occurred  or  been  trumped  up  in  the  whole  county ;  and 
secondly,  by  compelling  me  to  disbursements  which  I  am 
conscious  I  cannot  afford.  Nor  have  I  even  the  common 
consolations  of  charity ;  for,  feeling  that  I  bestow  my 
money  with  an  ill-will,  from  false  pride  or  pique,  I  ac- 
cuse myself  at  once  of  vanity  and  meanness,  of  penury 
and  extravagance.  This  most  worthy  nuisance  and  in- 
satiable beggar  is  the  very  first  person  I  should  recom- 


198  CAIKi  !KS     AND     GRAVITIES. 


mend  to  the  notice  of  the  proposed  Society  ;  and  I 
hope  they  will  be  quick,  or  I  shall  myself  be  upon  her 
list.  /  shall  be  soon  suppressed,  if  she  is  not. 

That  the  clergyman  of  the  parish  should  put  me  in 
spiritual  jeopardy  whenever  he  preaches  a  charity  ser- 
mon, threatening  me  with  all  sorts  of  cremation  if  I  do 
not  properly  contribute  to  the  collection,  is  a  process  to 
which  I  can  submit  patiently  ; — for  though  his  fulniina- 
tions  may  be  alarming,  his  is  not  the  power  that  can 
enforce  them.  But  I  do  hold  it  to  be  a  downright 
breach  of  the  peace,  that  Sir  David  Dewlap  aforesaid, 
and  Doctor  Allbury,  should  take  their  station  on  each 
side  of  the  church-door,  thrusting  in  one's  face  a  silver 

o 

plate,  in  such  cases  quite  as  intimidating  as  a  pistol,  and 
exclaiming  in  looks  and  actions,  if  not  in  words — 
"  Stand  and  deliver !"  The  former  is  the  bashaw  of  the 
village,  whose  fiat  can  influence  the  reception  or  exclu- 
sion of  all  those  who  mix  in  the  better  sort  of  society, 
while  his  custom  can  mar  or  make  half  the  shopkeepers 
of  the  place.  The  latter  is  our  principal  house  proprie- 
tor, and  really  quarter-day  comes  round  so  excessively 
quick,  that  it  is  never  quite  convenient  to  be  out  of  the 
good  graces  of  one's  landlord.  It  is  precisely  on  ac- 
count of  the  undue  influence  they  can  thus  exercise, 
that  they  undertake  this  species  of  legal  extortion  and 
robbery,  for  it  deserves  no  better  name.  Is  it  not  as 
bad  to  put  us  in  mental  or  financial,  as  in  bodily  fear ' 
and  is  it  not  a  greater  offence  when  practised  on  the 
Lord's  highway — (the  churchyard),  than  even  on  the 
King's  ?  Every  farthing  thus  given,  beyond  what  would 
otherwise  have  been  bestowed,  is  so  much  swindled  out 
of  our  pockets,  or  torn  from  us  by  intimidation,  unless 


BEGGARS    EXTRAORDINARY.  199 

we  admit  the  possibility  of  compulsory  free-will  offerings. 
I  am  a  Falstaff,  and  hate  to  give  money,  any  more  than 
reasons,  upon  compulsion  :  I  submit,  indeed,  but  it  is 
an  involuntary  acquiescence.  The  end,  I  may  be  told, 
sanctifies  the  means  :  charity  covereth  a  multitude  of 
sins  ; — true  :  but  undue  influence  and  extortion  on  the 
one  side,  hypocrisy  and  heart-burning  on  the  other — 
these  are  not  charity,  nor  do  they  hold  any  affinity  with 
that  virtue,  whose  quality  is  not  strained,  "  but  droppeth 
as  the  gentle  dew  from  heaven."  Does  the  reader  re- 
collect a  fine  old  grizzle-headed  Silenus-faced  demi-Her- 
cules,  of  a  cripple,  who,  with  short  crutches,  and  his 
limbless  trunk  on  a  kind  of  sledge,  used  to  shovel  briskly 
along  the  streets  of  London  ?  Disdaining  to  ask  an 
alms,  this  counterpart  of  the  Elgin  Theseus  would 
glance  downwards  at  his  own  mutilated  form,  and  up- 
wards at  the  perfect  one  of  the  passengers,  to  whom  he 
left  it  to  draw  the  inference  ;  and  if  this  silent  appeal 
failed  to  extract  even  a  sympathizing  look,  he  would, 
sometimes,  in  the  waywardness  of  his  mighty  heart, 
wish  "  that  the  Devil  might  have  them,"  (as  who  shall 
say  he  will  not  ?)  In  his  paternal  pride,  he  had 
sworn  to  give  a  certain  sum  as  a  marriage-portion  to  his 
daughter ;  it  was  nearly  accomplished,  and  he  was 
stumping  his  painful  rounds  for  its  completion,  when  he 
was  assailed  by  certain  myrmidons  as  a  vagabond,  and, 
after  a  Nemsean  resistance,  was  laid  in  durance  vile. 
Was  not  his  an  end  that  might  indeed  sanctify  the 
means  ?  And  shall  a  man  like  this  be  held  a  beggar 
by  construction,  when  such  symbolic  mendicants  and 
typical  pickpockets  as  Sir  David  Dewlap  and  Doctor 
Allbury  may  hold  their  plates  at  our  throats,  and  rob 


200  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

us  with  impunity  ?  No — if  I  have  any  influence  with 
the  new  Society,  one  of  its  earliest  acts  shall  be  the 
commitment  of  these  Corinthian  caterers  to  Bridewell, 
that  they  may  dance  a  week's  saraband  together  to  the 
dainty  measure  of  the  Tread-Mill. 

There  is  another  class  of  eleemosynaries,  who  would 
be  indignant  at  the  appellation  of  Almsmen,  since  they 
make  an  attack  upon  your  purse  under  the  independent 
profession  of  Borrowers,  while  they  are  most  valorous 
professors  also  (but  most  pusillanimous  performers)  of 
repayment.  If  they  be  gentry  of  whom  one  would  fairly 
be  quit  for  ever,  I  usually  follow  the  Vicar  of  Wake- 
field's  prescription,  who  was  accustomed  to  lend  a  great- 
coat to  one,  an  old  horse  to  a  second,  a  few  pounds  to 
a  third,  and  seldom  was  troubled  by  their  reappearance. 
If  they  be  indifferent  parties,  whom  one  may  reasonably 
hope  to  fob  oft*  with  banter  and  evasion,  I  quote  to  them 
from  Shakspeare — 

"  Neither  a  borrower  nor  a  lender  be  ; 
For  loan  oft  loses  both  itself  and  friend, 
And  borrowing  dulls  the  edge  of  husbandry." 

Be  they  matter-of-fact  fellows,  who  apprehend  not  a 
joke,  I  show  them  my  empty  purse,  which,  Heaven 
knows,  is  no  joke  to  me,  while  it  is  the  best  of  all  ar- 
guments to  them.  But  be  they  men  of  pith  and  prom- 
ise, friends  whom  I  well  esteem  and  would  long  pre- 
serve, I  refuse  them  at  once  ;  for  these  are  companions 
whom  I  cannot  afford  to  lose,  and  whom  a  loan  would 
not  long  allow  me  to  keep.  Those  who  may  be  cooled 
by  a  refusal  would  have  been  alienated  by  an  acquies- 
cence. Friendship,  to  be  permanent,  must  be  perfectly 


BEGGARS    EXTRAORDINARY.  201 


independent ;  for  such  is  the  pride  of  the  human  heart, 
that  it  cannot  receive  a  favour  without  a  feeling  of  hu- 
miliation, and  it  will  almost  unconsciously  harbour  a 
constant  wish  to  lower  the  value  of  the  gift  by  dimin- 
ishing that  of  the  donor.  Ingratitude  is  an  effort  to  re- 
cover our  own  esteem  by  getting  rid  of  our  esteem  for 
a  benefactor ;  and  when  once  self-love  opposes  our  love 
of  another,  it  soon  vanquishes  its  adversary.  We  es- 
teem benefactors  as  we  do  tooth-drawers,  who  have 
cured  us  of  one  pain  by  inflicting  another.  For  the 
rich  I  am  laying  down  no  rules  ;  they  may  afford  to 
lose  their  friends  as  well  as  money,  for  they  can  com- 
mand more  of  each  ;  we  who  stand  under  the  frown  of 
Plutus,  must  be  economists  of  both,  and  it  is  for  the 
benefit  of  such  classes  that  I  would  have  the  whole 
brotherhood  of  mendicants,  calling  themselves  borrowers, 
sentenced  to  the  House  of  Correction — not  till  they  had 
paid  their  debts,  for  that  would  be  equivalent  to  perpet- 
ual imprisonment,  but  until  they  had  sincerely  forgiven 
their  old  friends  for  lending  them  money,  and  placed 
themselves  in  a  situation  to  acquire  new  ones  by  a 
promise  never  to  borrow  any  more. 

A  fourth  description  of  beggars,  not  less  pestilent  in 
their  visitations,  are  the  fellows  who  are  constantly  com- 
ing to  beg  that  you  will  lend  them  a  book,  which  they 
will  faithfully  return  in  eight  or  ten  days,  for  which  you 
may  substitute  years,  and  be  no  nearer  to  the  recovery  of 
your  property.  It  is  above  that  period  since  some  of 
my  friends  have  begged  the  second  volume  of  Tom 
Brown's  Works,  the  first  of  Bayle's  Dictionary,  Phineas 
Fletcher's  Purple  Island,  and  various  others,  whose 
absence  creates  many  a  "  hiatus  valde  deflendus  "  in  my 
9* 


202  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

bookshelves,  which,  like  so  many  open  mouths,  cry 
aloud  to  heaven  against  the  purloiners  of  odd  volumes 
and  the  decimators  of  sets.  Books  are  a  sort  of  fera> 
naturce  to  these  poachers  that  have  "  nulla  vestigia  re- 
trorsum  ;"  they  pretend  to  have  forgotten  where  they 
borrowed  them,  and  then  claim  them  as  strays  ami 
waifs.  You  may  know  the  number  of  a  man's  friends 
by  the  vacancies  in  his  library  ;  and  if  he  be  one  of  the 
best  fellows  in  the  world,  his  shelves  will  assuredly  be 
empty.  Possession  is  held  to  be  nine  points  in  law,  but 
with  friends  of  this  class  unlawful  possession  is  the  best 
of  all  titles  ;  for  print  obliterates  property,  meurn  and 
tuum  cannot  be  bound  up  in  calf  or  morocco,  and 
honour  and  honesty  cease  to  be  obligatory  in  all  matters 
of  odd  volumes.  Beggars  of  this  quality  might  with 
great  propriety  be  sent  to  the  counting-houses  of  the 
different  prisons  and  penitentiaries,  where  their  literary 
abilities  might  be  rendered  available  by  employing 
them  as  book-keepers,  a  business  in  which  they  have 
already  exhibited  so  much  proficiency.  One  day  for 
every  octavo,  two  for  a  quarto,  and  three  for  every  folio, 
of  which  they  could  not  give  a  satisfactory  account, 
would  probably  be  deemed  an  adequate  punishment. 

The  last  species  of  mendicants  whom  I  should  re- 
commend to  the  new  Suppression  Society,  and  whom, 
judging  by  my  own  experience,  I  should  pronounce  the 
most  importunate  and  unreasonable  of  any,  are  the 
young  and  old  ladies,  from  the  boarding-school  Miss  to 
the  Dowager  Blue-stocking,  who,  in  the  present  rage 
for  albums  and  autographs,  ferret  out  all  unfortunate 
writers,  from  the  Great  Unknown,  whom  every  body 
knows,  down  to  the  illustrious  obscure  whom  uobo<l , 


BEGGARS    EXTRAORDINARY.  203 

knows,  and  beg  them — just  to  write  a  few  lines  for  in- 
sertion in  their  repository.  If  they  will  even  throw  out 
baits  to  induce  so  mere  a  minnow  as  myself  to  nibble 
at  a  line,  what  must  they  do  for  the  Tritons  and  Levi- 
athans of  literature!  Friends,  aunts,  cousins,  neigh- 
bours, all  are  put  in  requisition,  and  made  successively 
bearers  of  the  neat  morocco-bound  begging-book. 
Surely,  Mr.  Higginbotham,  you  will  not  refuse  me, 
when  I  know  you  granted  the  same  favour  to  Miss  Bar- 
nacles, Miss  Scroggs,  Mrs.  Scribbleton,  and  many  others. 
Besides,  it  is  so  easy  for  you  to  compose  a  few  stanzas  ! 
— Gadzooks  !  these  folks  seem  to  think  one  can  write 
sense  as  fast  as  they  talk  nonsense — that  poetry  comes 
spontaneously  to  the  mouth,  as  if  we  were  born  impro- 
visatori,  and  could  not  help  ourselves.  I  believe,  how- 
ever, that  few  will  take  the  trouble  to  read  that  which 
has  not  occasioned  some  trouble  to  write  ;  and  even  if 
their  supposition  were  true,  we  have  the  authority  of 
Dr.  Johnson  for  declaring  that  no  one  likes  to  give  away 
that  by  which  he  lives  : — "  You,  Sir,"  said  he,  turning 
to  Thrale,  "  would  rather  give  away  money  than  beer." 
And  to  come  a-begging  of  such  impoverished  wits  as 
mine —  Corpo  di  Bacco  !  it  is  robbing  the  Spittal — put- 
ting their  hands  in  the  poorbox — taking  that  "  which 
naught  enrich etli  them,  and  makes  me  poor  indeed " 
— doing  their  best  to  create  a  vacuum,  which  Na- 
ture abhors :  and  as  to  assuming  that  compliance 
costs  nothing,  this  is  the  worst  mendicity  of  all,  for 
it  is  even  begging  the  question.  No,  I  cannot  recom- 
mend to  the  new  Society  any  extension  of  indulgence 
towards  offenders  of  this  class.  The  ladies,  old  and 
young,  should  be  condemned  to  Bridewell,  (not  that  I 


204  «.. \IK-1IK3    AND    ORAVITIK-. 

mean  any  play  upon  the  word,)  there  to  be  dieted  upon 
bread  and  water  until  they  had  completely  filled  one 
another's  albums  with  poetry  of  their  own  composing; 
after  which  process,  I  believe  they  might  be  turned  loose 
upon  society  without  danger  of  their  resuming  the 
trade  of  begging.  Other  mendicant  nuisances  occur  to 
me,  for  whose  suppression  the  proposed  Institution  would 
be  held  responsible ;  but  I  have  filled  my  limits  for  the 
present,  and  shall  therefore  leave  them  to  form  the  sub- 
ject of  a  future  communication. 


STANZAS  TO  PUNCHINELLO. 

THOU  lignum-vitae  Roscius,  who 
Dost  the  old  vagrant  stage  renew, 

Peerless,  inimitable  Punchinello ! 
The  Queen  of  smiles  is  quite  outdone 
By  thee,  all-glorious  king  of  fun, 

Thou  grinning,  giggling,  laugh-extorting  fellow  I 

At  other  times  mine  ear  is  wrung 
Whene'er  I  hear  the  trumpet's  tongue, 

Waking  associations  melancholic ; 
But  that  which  heralds  thee  recalls 
All  childhood's  joys  and  festivals, 

And  makes  the  heart  rebound  with  freak  and  frolic. 

Ere  of  thy  face  I  get  a  snatch, 
0  with  what  boyish  glee  I  catch 

Thy  twittering,  cackling,  bubbling,  squeaking  gibber- 
Sweeter  than  syren  voices — fraught 
With  richer  iin-miiK'nt  UIMII  might 

That  drops  from  witling  mouths,  though  utter'd  glibber! 


STANZAS    TO    PUNCHINELLO.  205 

What  wag  was  ever  known  before 
To  keep  the  circle  in  a  roar, 

Nor  wound  the  feelings  of  a  single  hearer  ? 
Engrossing  all  the  jibes  and  jokes, 
Unenvied  by  the  duller  folks, 

A  harmless  wit — an  unmalignant  jeerer. 

The  upturn'd  eyes  I  love  to  trace 

Of  wondering  mortals,  when  their  face 

Is  all  alight  with  an  expectant  gladness ; 
To  mark  the  flickering  giggle  first, 
The  growing  grin — the  sudden  burst, 

And  universal  shout  of  merry  madness. 

I  love  those  sounds  to  analyse, 
From  childhood's  shrill  ecstatic  cries, 

To  age's  chuckle  with  its  coughing  after ; 
To  see  the  grave  and  the  genteel 
Rein  in  awhile  the  mirth  they  feel, 

Then  loose  their  muscles,  and  let  out  the  laughter. 

Sometimes  I  note  a  hen-peck'd  wight, 
Enjoying  thy  marital  might, 

To  him  a  beatific  beau-ideal  ; 
He  counts  each  crack  on  Judy's  pate, 
Then  homeward  creeps  to  cogitate 

The  difference  'twixt  dramatic  wives  and  real. 

But>  Punch,  thou'rt  ungallant  and  rude 
In  plying  thy  persuasive  wood ; 

Remember  that  thy  cudgel's  girth  is  fuller 
Than  that  compassionate,  thumb-thick, 
Established  wife-compelling  stick, 

Made  legal  by  the  dictum  of  Judge  Buller. 

When  the  officious  doctor  hies 

To  cure  thy  spouse,  there's  no  surprise 

Thou  shouldst  receive  him  with  nose-tweaking  grappling ; 


206  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 


Nor  can  we  wonder  that  the  mob 
Encores  each  crack  upon  his  nob, 

When  thou  art  feeing  him  with  oaken  sapling. 

As  for  our  common  enemy 
Old  Nick,  we  all  rejoice  to  see 

The  coup  de  grace  that  silences  his  wrangle ; 
But,  lo,  Jack  Ketch  ! — ah,  welladay ! 
Dramatic  justice  claims  its  prey, 

And  thou  in  hempen  handkerchief  must  dangle. 

Now  helpless  hang  those  arms  which  once 
Rattled  such  music  on  the  sconce  ; 

Hush'd  is  that  tongue  which  late  out-jested  Yorick ; 
That  hunch  behind  is  shrugg'd  no  more, 
No  longer  heaves  that  paunch  before, 

"Which  swagg'd  with  such  a  pleasantry  plethoric. 

But  Thespian  deaths  are  transient  woes, 
And  still  less  durable  are  those 

Suffer' d  by  lignum-vitae  malefactors ; 
Thou  wilt  return,  alert,  alive, 
And  long,  oh  long  may'st  thou  survive, 

First  of  head-breaking  and  side-splitting  actors! 


FIRST  LETTER   TO  THE  ROYAL  LITERARY  SOCIETY. 

"  Our  court  shall  be  a  little  academy."— SUAKSPEAHE. 

"  Doctor,  I  want  you  to  inend  my  cacology." — Heir  at  Law. 

CANDOUR  requires,  Mr.  Secretary,  that  I  should  com- 
mence my  letter  by  confessing  the  doubts  I  once  enter- 
tained as  to  the  necessity  of  any  such  establishment  as 
that  which  I  have  now  the  honour  to  address ;  for,  at  a 
time  when  our  booksellers  evince  such  unprecedented 


LETTER    TO    THE    ROYAL    LITERARY    SOCIETY.        207 

munificence,  that  no  author  of  the  least  merit  is  left  un- 
rewarded, while  all  those  of  superior  talent  acquire 
wealth  as  well  as  fame,  it  did  appear  to  me  that  our 
w i-iters  needed  no  chartered  patrons  or  royal  remunera- 
tors.  At  the  first  public  meeting,  however,  of  the 
Society,  the  President  having  most  logically  urged  the 
propriety  of  such  an  institution,  because  this  country 
had  become  "  pre-eminently  distinguished  by  its  works 
of  history,  poetry,  and  philology,"  without  the  assistance 
of  any  corporate  academy ;  while  they  had  long 
possessed  one  in  France,  (where  literature  had  been 
notoriously  stationary  or  retrograde  from  the  period  of 
its  establishment),  I  could  not  resist  the  force  of  this 
double  argument,  and  am  now  not  only  convinced  that 
it  is  necessary  to  give  to  our  literature  "a  corporate 
character  and  representation,"  but  prepared,  as  far  as  my 
humble  abilities  extend,  to  forward  the  objects  of  the 
Society,  by  hastening  to  accept  its  invitation  for  public 
contributions.  Aware  that  the  model  of  the  French 
Academy  should  always  be  kept  in  view,  and  remem- 
bering the  anecdote  recorded  by  M.  Grimm,  one  of  its 
members,  who  died  in  the  greatest  grammatical  dilem- 
ma as  to  whether  he  should  say — "  Je  m'en  vais,"  or, 
"je  m'en  va,  dans  1'autre  monde,"  I  shall  limit  my  at- 
tention to  considerations  of  real  importance,  particularly 
to  such  as  may  conduce  "  to  the  improvement  of  our 
language,  and  the  correction  of  capricious  deviations 
from  its  native  purity,"  such  being  one  of  the  main  ob- 
jects proposed  in  the  President's  address.  Not  having 
time,  in  this  my  first  letter,  to  methodize  all  my  sug- 
gestions, I  shall  loosely  throw  upon  paper  such  observa- 


208  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

tions  as  have  occurred  to  me  in  a  hasty  and  superficial 
view  of  the  subject. 

Nothing  forms  so  violent  a  deviation  from  philo- 
logical purity  as  a  catachresis.  We  sneer  at  the  slip- 
slop of  uneducated  life,  and  laugh  at  Mrs.  Malaprop 
upon  the  stage  ;  yet  what  so  common  in  colloquial  lan- 
guage as  to  hear  people  talk  of  wooden  tombstones, 
iron  milestones,  glass  ink-horns,  brass  shoeing-horns, 
iron  coppers,  and  copper  hand-irons  ? — We  want  a  sub- 
stitute for  the  phrase  going  on  board  an  iron  steamboat, 
and  a  new  verb  for  expressing  its  motion,  which  is  neither 
sailing  nor  rowing :  these  are  desiderata  which  the 
Society  cannot  too  speedily  supply,  considering  the  pro- 
digious extension  of  that  mode  of  conveyance. — Many 
expressions  are  only  catachrestical  in  sound,  yet  require 
emendation  as  involving  an  apparently  ludicrous  con- 
tradiction :  such,  for  instance,  as  the  farmer's  speech  to 
a  nobleman  at  Newmarket,  whose  horse  had  lost  the 
first  race  and  won  the  second : — "  Your  horse,  my  lord, 
was  very  backward  in  coming  forward ;  he  was  behind 
before,  but  he's  first  at  last." — I  myself  lately  encoun- 
tered a  mounted  friend  in  Piccadilly,  who  told  me  he 
was  going  to  carry  his  horse  to  Tattersall's,  whereas  the 
horse  was  carrying  him  thither, — an  absurdity  which 
could  not  occur  in  France,  where  (owing,  doubtless,  to 
the  Academy)  they  have  the  three  words  porter,  mener, 
and  amener,  which  prevent  all  confusion  of  that  nature, 
unless  when  spoken  by  the  English,  who  uniformly 
misapply  them. — All  blackberries  being  of  a  wan  or 
rosy  hue  in  their  unripe  state,  we  may  with  perfect  truth 
affirm,  that  every  blackberry  is  either  white  or  red  when 
it  is  green  ;  which  sounds  like  a  violent  catachresis,  and 


LETTER    TO    THE    ROYAL    LITERARY    SOCIETY.       209 


on  that  account  demands  some  new  verbal  modification. 
Nothing  is  so  likely  to  corrupt  the  taste  of  the  fm- 
givorous  generation  as  any  looseness  of  idea  connected 
with  this  popular  berry. — By  the  structure  of  our  lan- 
guage, many  repetitions  of  the  same  word  occasionally 
occur,  for  which  some  remedy  should  be  provided  by 
the  Society.  UI  affirm,"  said  one  writing-master,  dis- 
puting with  another  about  the  word  "  that,"  written  by 
their  respective  pupils, — "  I  affirm  that  that  '  That'  that 
that  boy  has  written,  is  better  than  the  other."  Here 
the  same  word  occurs  five  times  in  succession ;  and 
many  similar  examples  might  be  adduced,  but  enough 
has  been  urged  to  prove  the  necessity  of  prompt  inter- 
ference on  the  part  of  the  Society. 

In  our  common  oaths,  exclamations,  and  interjec- 
tions, there  is  much  room  for  Academical  supervision. 
For  the  vulgar  phrase,  "  All  my  eye  and  Betty  Martin," 
we  might  resume  the  Latin  of  the  monkish  hymn  which 
it  was  meant  to  burlesque — "  O  mini,  beate  Martine  !" 
It  may  be  doubted  whether  we  could  with  propriety 
compel  all  conjurors  to  adopt  the  original  "  hoc  est 
corpus,"  pronounced  in  one  of  the  ceremonies  of  the 
Romish  church,  which  they  have  irreverently  corrupted 
into  hocus-pocus ;  but  we  may  indisputably  restore  the 
hilariter-celeriter,  which  has  been  metamorphosed  into 
the  term  helter-skelter.  It  would  be  highly  desirable  to 
give  a  more  classical  turn  to  this  department  of  our  lan- 
guage. The  Italian  "  Corpo  di  Bacco !"  might  be 
beneficially  imported ;  and  in  fact  there  is  no  good  rea- 
son why  the  JEdepol !  Hercle !  Proh  pudor !  Proh 
nefas  !  Proh  deum  atque  hominum  fides  !  and  other 
interjections  of  the  ancients,  might  not  be  brought  to 


210  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

supersede  those  Billingsgate  oaths,  which  are  not  only 
very  cacophonous,  revolting,  and  profane,  but  liable  to 
what  their  utterers  may  think  a  more  serious  objection 
— a  fine  of  one  shilling  each. 

Some  remedy  should  be  provided  for  the  incon- 
veniences arising  from  the  omission  or  misapplication  <>f 
the  aspirate  H,  to  which  some  of  our  cockney  tribe  are 
so  incurably  addicted.  It  is  upon  record,  that  a  Lord 
Mayor,  in  addressing  King  William,  called  him  a  Nero, 
meaning  to  say  a  hero ;  and  no  longer  ago  than  last 
season,  Miss  Augusta  Tibbs,  daughter  of  a  respectable 
slopseller  in  Great  St.  Helen's,  entering  Margate  by  a 
lane  that  skirted  the  cliff,  and  calling  repeatedly  to  the 
post-boy  to  drive  nearer  the  edge  (meaning  the  hedge 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  road),  was  so  incautiously 
obeyed,  that  the  vehicle  was  precipitated  into  the  sea, 
and  the  poor  young  lady  declared,  by  a  Coroner's  inquest, 
to  have  died  of  Iriaspiration.  Surely  so  melancholy  an 
occurrence  will  interest  the  humanity  of  the  Society  in 
making  some  provision  against  similar  calamities. 

Under  the  head  of  Topographical  Literature,  I  would 
earnestly  request  the  attention  of  the  Institution  to 
various  anomalous  and  contradictory  designations  of 
locality,  which  would  long  ago  have  been  corrected,  if, 
like  the  French,  we  had  possessed  a  speciil  Academy 
of  Inscriptions.  Thus  we  apply  the  name  of  Whitehall 
to  a  black  chapel ;  Cheapside  is  dear  on  both  sides ;  the 
Serpentine  River  is  a  straight  canal,  and  the  New  River 
an  old  canal ;  Knightsbrid^e  has  no  bridge ;  Moor- 
fields  exhibit  no  more  fields ;  the  Green  Park  was  all 
last  autumn  completely  brown,  Green-street  was  in  no 
better  plight,  and  both,  according  to  Goldsmith's  recom- 


LETTER    TO    THE    ROYAL    LITERARY    SOCIETY.       211 

mendation,  should  be  removed  to  Hammersmith,  because 
that  is  the  way  to  Turnham-green.  Endeavours  should 
be  made  to  assimilate  the  names  of  our  streets  to  the 
predominant  character  of  their  inhabitants, — a  con- 
formity to  which  those  lovers  of  good  cheer,  the  citizens, 
have  not  been  altogether  inattentive,  inasmuch  as  they 
have  the  Poultry,  Fish-street-hill,  Pudding-lane  and  Pie- 
corner,  Beer-lane,  Bread-street,  Milk-street,  Wine-court, 
Port-soken  ward,  and  many  others. — If  the  mountain 
cannot  be  brought  to  Mahomet,  we  know  there  is  still 
an  alternative  for  making  them  both  meet;  so,  if  there 
be  too  great  an  inconvenience  in  transposing  the  streets, 
we  may  remove  the  householders  to  more  appropriate 
residences.  Upon  this  principle,  all  poets  should  be 
compelled  to  purchase  their  Hippocrene  from  the  Meuxes 
of  Liquorpond-street ;  those  authors  who  began  with 
being  flaming  patriots,  and  are  now  Court-sycophants 
or  Treasury  hirelings,  should  be  billeted,  according  to 
the  degrees  of  their  offence,  upon  the  Little  and  Great 
Turn-stile.  Some  of  our  furious  political  scribes  should 
be  removed  to  Billingsgate  or  Old  Bedlam ;  those  of  a 
more  insipid  character,  to  Milk  and  Water  Lanes  ;  and 
every  immoral  or  objectionable  writer  should  illustrate 
the  fate  of  his  productions,  by  ending  his  days  in  Privy- 
gardens.  Physicians  and  surgeons  might  be  quartered 
in  the  neighbourhood  of  Slaughter's  coffee-house ;  the 
spinsters  of  the  metropolis  might  congregate  in  the 
Mews  ;  the  lame  ducks  of  the  Stock  Exchange  should 
take  refuge  in  the  Poultry  or  Cripplegate ;  watchmakers 
might  ply  their  art  in  Seven-Dials ;  thieves  should  be 
tethered  in  the  Steel-yard :  all  the  Jews  should  be  re- 


212  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

stored  to  the  Old  Jewry,  and  the  Quakers  should  assem- 
ble in  Hatton-garden. 

Chancery-lane,  which  would  of  course  be  appro- 
priated to  the  suitors  of  that  court,  should  by  no  moans 
terminate  in  Fleet-street,  but  be  extended  to  Labour-in- 
\  ain-hill  in  one  direction,  and  to  Long-lane  in  the  other. 
Members  of  Parliament,  according  to  their  politics,  might 
settle  themselves  either  upon  Constitution-hill  or  in  Rot- 
ten-row. I  am  aware,  that  if  we  wish  to  establish  a 
perfect  conformity  between  localities  and  tenants,  we 
must  considerably  diminish  Goodman's-fields,  and  pro- 
portionally enlarge  KnaveVacre ;  but  the  difficulty  of 
completing  a  measure  is  no  argument  against  its  partial 
adoption. 

In  what  may  be  denominated  our  external  or  shop- 
keepers' literature,  the  Society  will  find  innumerable 
errors  to  rectify.  Where  he  who  runs  may  read,  cor- 
rectness and  propriety  are  peculiarly  necessary,  and  we 
all  know  how  much  good  was  effected  by  the  French 
Academy  of  Inscriptions.  Having,  in  my  late  perambu- 
lations through  London,  noted  down  what  appeared  to 
me  particularly  reprehensible,  and  thrown  the  various 
addresses  of  the  parties  into  an  appendix,  in  order  that 
your  secretary  may  write  to  them  with  such  emendatory 
orders  as  the  case  may  require, — I  proceed  to  notice, 
first,  the  fantastical  practice  of  writing  the  number  over  the 
door,  and  the  names  on  either  side,  whence  we  have  such 
ridiculous  inscriptions  as  uBoviLL  and — 127 — BOYS,'' 
which  would  lead  us  to  suppose  that  the  aforesaid  Mr. 
Bovill's  tailor's  bill  must  be  of  alarming  longitude, 
though  perhaps  less  terrific  than  that  of  his  opposite 


LETTER    TO    THE    ROYAL    LITERARY    SOCIETY.       213 

neighbour,  who  writes  up — "THACKRAH  and — 219 — 
SONS." 

Not  less  objectionable  is  the  absurd  practice  of  writ- 
ing the  name  over  the  door,  and  the  trade  on  either 
side,  whence  we  have  such  incongruous  combinations  as 
"Hat — CHILD  — maker," — "Cheese  —  Ho  ARE  — mon- 
ger ;"  and  a  variety  of  others,  of  which  the  preceding 
will  afford  a  sufficient  sample. 

Among  those  inscriptions  where  the  profession  fol- 
lows the  name  without  any  transposition,  there  are  sev- 
eral that  are  perfectly  appropriate,  if  not  synonymous, 
such  as  "  BLIGHT  &  SON,  Blind-makers  :" — "  Mangling 
done  here,"  occasionally  written  under  the  address  of  a 
country  surgeon  : — "  BREWER,  Druggist," — "  WRENCH, 
Tooth-drawer," — "  SLOMAN,  Wine-merchant," — "  WA- 
TERS, Milkman,"  &c.  &c. — But  on  the  contrary,  there 
are  many  that  involve  a  startling  catachresis,  such  as 
"  WHETMAN,  Dry-salter," — "  ENGLISH,  China-man," — 
"  PAIN,  Rectifier  of  Spirits," — "  STEADFAST,  Turner," — 
"  Go  WING,  Staymaker  ;"  while  among  the  colours  there  is 
the  most  lamentable  confusion, as  we  have  "WHITE,  Black- 
smith,"— "BLACK,  Whitesmith," — "BROWN  &  SCARLET, 
Green-grocers,"  and  "  GREY — Hairdresser,"  which  would 
erroneously  lead  the  passenger  to  suppose  that  none 
biit  grizzled  heads  were  admitted  into  the  shop.  While 
remedying  these  inconsistencies,  the  Society  are  entreat- 
ed not  to  forget,  that  the  Pavement  now  extends  a  full 
mile  beyond  what  is  still  termed  "  The  Stones'  End  "  in 
the  Borough  ;  and  that  the  inscription  at  Lower  Ed- 
monton, "  When  the  water  is  above  this  board,  please 
to  take  the  upper  road,"  can  be  of  very  little  use,  unless 
when  the  wash  is  perfectly  pellucid,  which  it  never  is. 


214  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

On  a  shop-window  in  the  Borough  there  still  remains 
written,  "  New-laid  eggs  every  day,  by  Mary  Dobson," 
which  the  Society  should  order  to  be  expunged,  as  an 
imposition  upon  the  public,  unless  they  can  clearly  as- 
certain the  veracity  of  the  assertion. 

One  of  the  declared  objects  of  the  Institution  being 
the  promotion  of — "  loyalty  in  its  genuine  sense,  not 
only  of  personal  devotion  to  the  sovereign,  but  of  at- 
tachment to  the  laws  and  institutions  of  our  country," 
I  would  point  out  to  its  indignant  notice  the  following 
inscription  in  High  Holborn — "  KING — Dyer,"  which  is 
not  only  contrary  to  the  received  legal  maxim  that  the 
King  never  dies,  but  altogether  of  a  most  dangerous 
and  disloyal  tendency. — "  Parliament  sold  here"  written 
up  in  large  letters  in  the  City-road,  is  also  an  obvious 
allusion  to  the  imputed  corruption  of  that  body  ;  and 
the  gingerbread  kings  and  queens  at  the  same  shop 
being  all  over  gilt,  suggest  a  most  traitorous  and  offen- 
sive Paronomasia.  I  suspect  the  fellow  who  deals  in 
these  commodities  to  be  a  radical.  Of  the  same  nature 
are  the  indecorous  inscriptions  (which  should  have  been 
noticed  among  those  who  place  their  names  over  the 
door)  running  thus,  "  Ironmongery — PARSONS — Tools 
of  all  sorts ;".  while  in  London-wall  we  see  written  up, 
"DEACON  &  PRIEST,  Hackneymen."  A  Society,  which 
among  the  twenty-seven  published  names  of  its  council 
and  officers,  contains  one  Bishop,  two  Archdeacons,  and 
five  Reverends,  cannot,  out  of  self-respect,  suffer  these 
indecent  allusions  to  be  any  longer  stuck  up  in  the  me- 
tropolis. 

The  French  Academy  having  decided,  that  proper 
names  should  never  have  any  plural,  I  would  implore 


LETTER,    TO    THE    NEW    LITERARY    SOCIETY.          215 

the  Royal  Literary  Society  to  relieve  the  embarrassment 
of  our  footmen,  by  deciding  whether  they  are  author- 
ized in  announcing  at  our  routs,  "  Mr.  &  Mrs.  FOOT 
and  the  Miss  FEET  ;"  whether  Mr.  PEACOCK'S  family 
are  to  be  severally  designated  as  Mrs.  PEAHEN  and 
the  Miss  PEACHICKS  ;  and  also  what  would  be  the 
best  substitution  for  Mr.  arid  Mrs.  MAN  and  the  Miss 
MEN,  which  has  a  very  awkward  sound. 

Concluding,  for  the  present,  with  the  request  that 
the  other  gold  medal  of  fifty  guineas  may  not  be  ap- 
propriated until  after  the  receipt  of  my  second  letter,  I 
have  the  honour  to  be,  &c.  <fec.  &c. 


SECOND  LETTER  TO  THE   NEW   ROYAL   LITERARY 
SOCIETY. 

De  omnibus  rebus  et  quibusdam  aliis. 

"  A  rebus  upon  all  things,  and  on  several  others." 

FREE  TRANSLATION. 

IN  my  first  letter  I  did  not  advert  to  one  department  of 
literature,  that,  for  the  abuses  and  corruptions  with  which 
it  is  defiled,  may  be  termed  the  Augaean  stable  of  the 
Muses,  and  calls  aloud  for  the  cleansing  interposition  of 
a  Society  which  will  not  shrink  from  any  labours,  how- 
ever Herculean.  I  allude  to  the  present  state  of  logic. 
It  is  true  that  this  science  is  not  so  severely  studied  as 
it  was  formerly,  but  it  still  forms  a  regular  part  of  every 
classical  education :  and  as  many  avail  themselves  of 
its  subtleties  and  labyrinths  for  the  purpose  of  puzzling 
others  or  making  their  own  escape,  to  the  great  detri- 
ment of  all  truth,  precision,  and  simplicity,  and  the 


216  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

manifest  subversion  of  human  reason  in  general,  no 
more  solemn  or  imperious  duty  can  devolve  upon  the  So- 
ciety than  the  correction  of  so  enormous  and  crying  an  evil. 
The  whole  sixty-four  different  modes  of  syllogism  should 
be  instantly  abolished  by  act  of  parliament;  for  what 
benefit  can  ever  be  derived  from  a  study  which  will  ad- 
mit of  such  undeniable  falsehoods,  impossible  truisms, 
and  conclusive  contradictions,  as  are  exhibited  in  the 
well-known  dilemmas  of  the  Greek  logicians  ?  I  am 
willing  to  believe  that  the  great  majority  of  the  Society 
I  am  addressing  are  fully  impressed  with  the  importance 
of  atmospherical  variations,  as  an  inexhaustible  subject 
of  colloquial  originality ;  yet  what  is  to  become  of  our 
social  enjoyments,  if  this  most  pregnant  and  delightful 
topic  is  to  be  rendered  unavailing  by  such  a  reductio  ad 
absurdum  as  the  following  ? — Either  it  rains,  or  it  does 
not  rain — but  it  rains — therefore  it  does  not  rain  :  or  by 
reversing  the  position,  you  may  prove  that  it  does  rain, 
and  so  strike  at  the  very  root  of  rational  and  instructive 
conversation.  In  the  succeeding  trite  quatrain  a  most 
unfounded  and  illiberal  imputation  is  cast  upon  the  filial 
affections  of  a  respectable  class  of  his  Majesty's  subjects 
— the  venders  of  turnips. 

"If  the  man  who  turnips  cries, 
Cries  not  when  his  father  dies, 
Tis  a  proof  that  he  had  rather 
Have  a  turnip  than  his  father." 

When  the  perversion  of  logic  is  thus  made  a  vehicle 
for  private  scandal,  the  legislature  should  provide  some 
means  of  redress  for  the  party  libelled,  provided  he  be 
proved  to  have  taken  out  a  regular  hawker's  license. 


LETTER    TO    THE    NEW    LITERARY    SOCIETY.         21 7 

In  the  Musarum  Delicise  an  instance  occurs  of  logi- 
cal subtlety,  which  the  Society  may,  perhaps,  be  dis- 
posed to  think  venial,  and  even  laudable,  since  it  was 
directed  against  the  great  enemy  of  mankind.  A  friar 
is  stated  to  have  sold  his  soul  to  the  Prince  of  Dark- 
ness, upon  condition  that  all  his  debts  were  paid  : — 
money  was  supplied  in  abundance  ;  and  when  the  con- 
tracting party  was  extricated  from  all  his  pecuniary  dif- 
ficulties, and  Satan  appeared,  saying  that  he  came  to 
claim  the  soul  that  was  due  to  him, 

"  The  friar  returned  this  answer : — If  I  owe 
You  any  debts  at  all,  then  you  must  know 
I  am  indebted  still : — if  nothing  be 
Due  unto  you,  why  do  you  trouble  me  ?" 

This  dangerous  weapon  is,  however,  sometimes  ap- 
plied, with  a  culpable  Jesuitism  and  casuistry,  to  the  eva- 
sion of  the  spirit,  by  adhering  to  the  letter,  of  the  most 
important  moral  enactments.  Thus  it  has  been  urged 
that  we  are  ordered  to  forgive  our  enemies,  but  not  our 
friends ;  not  to  bear  false  witness  against  our  neighbour, 
but  we  may  do  so  for  him :  and  he  who  had  been  ac- 
cused of  an  improper  intimacy  with  his  valet's  spouse, 
replied,  that  the  offence  was  only  forbidden  against 
another  man's  wife,  whereas  this  was  his  own  man's 
wife.  Such  slippery  subterfuges  should  be  declared,  by 
the  paramount  authority  of  the  Society,  to  be  senseless 
and  irreverent  mockeries.  It  might  be  advisable,  also, 
that  they  should  pass  a  severe  censure  upon  a  certain 
logical,  or  rather  punning  executor,  who  having  three 
bank-notes  of  a  hundred  pounds  each  to  divide  among 
five  legatees,  of  whom  he  was  himself  one,  said,  "  There 
10 


218  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

is  one  for  you  two,  one  for  you  two,  and  one  for  me  too." 
In  cases  of  this  nature,  property,  literature,  and  logic, 
unite  in  claiming  the  protection  of  the  new  Society. 

It  may  also  be  most  beneficially  consulted  as  an 
umpire  in  cases  that  do  not  fall  properly  within  the  ju- 
risdiction of  any  of  our  established  Courts  :  such,  for 
instance,  as  the  question  whether  the  rustic  was  guilty 
of  perjury,  for  swearing  that  at  a  certain  hour  a  man  on 
horseback  stopped  at  his  house,  when  it  was  clearly 
proved  to  have  been  a  tailor  upon  a  mare : — whether 
the  common  dictum,  that  the  best  side  of  a  plum-pud- 
ding is  the  left  side,  (i.  e.  that  which  is  left,)  can  be  logic- 
ally said  of  a  piece  cut  from  the  centre  ; — whether 
you  may  legally  object  to  paying  for  candles,  as  of  bad 
quality,  because  when  they  are  half-burnt  they  will  not 
burn  any  longer,  but,  on  the  contrary,  burn  shorter : — 
all  these  are  most  important  considerations,  which  ought 
not  to  be  left  in  their  present  state  of  cavil  and  uncer- 
tainty. Perhaps  it  might  be  advisable  to  offer  prizes  for 
the  best  essays  upon  subjects  of  general  interest  and 
clear  unquestionable  utility  ;  such  as  the  still  unsolved 
problem, — "  An  chimsera  rimbombans  in  vacuo  poterit 
edere  primas  intentiones  ?" — for  a  solution  of  the  old 
metaphysical  crux  of  the  jackass  between  the  two  bundles 
of  hay  ; — for  an  inquiry  into  the  much-disputed  point, 
whether  the  philosopher  Bias  really  invented  the  game 
of  bowls,  and  Eusebius  spectacles ;  whether  Posthu- 
mus  Leonatus  was  actually  born  again  of  a  lion  after 
his  burial ;  and  whether  the  surgical  essay  of  Taliaco- 
tius,  entitled  "  De  Curtis  Membris,"  may  fairly  be  con- 
sidered a  prophecy  that  a  well-known  city  baronet  and 
his  son  should  both  become  members  of  parliament. 


LETTER    TO    THE    NEW    LITERARY    SOCIETY.         219 

Much  good  may  be  effected  in  this  way ;  but  the  ques- 
tions selected  should  be  of  an  importance  as  manifest  as 
those  which  I  have  ventured  to  suggest. 

The  preservation  of  our  language  in  all  its  purity 
being  one  of  the  main  objects  of  the  Institution,  its  at- 
tention cannot  too  earnestly  be  directed  to  an  abuse  of 
terms,  which  is  of  much  more  serious  importance  than 
its  mere  philological  inaccuracy,  since  it  is  calculated  to 
injure  morality  and  confound  all  our  notions  of  right 
and  wrong,  by  substituting  certain  silken  phrases  and 
taffeta  terms  precise  for  the  most  grave  offences.  Thus, 
killing  an  innocent  man  in  a  duel  is  called — an  affair 
of  honour ;  violating  the  rights  of  wedlock — an  affair 
of  gallantry ;  adultery — a  faux-pas  ;  defrauding  honest 
tradesmen — outrunning  the  constable  ;  reducing  a  fam- 
ily to  beggary  by  gaming — shaking  the  elbows ;  a  drunk- 
ard, that  worst  of  all  livers,  is — a  bon-vivant  ;  disturbing 
a  whole  street,  and  breaking  a  watchman's  head — a 
midnight  frolic ;  exposing  some  harmless  personage  to 
insults,  annoyances,  and  losses — a  good  hoax ;  uttering 
deliberate  falsehoods — shooting  the  long  bow  :  and  va- 
rious other  polite  epithets  will  occur  to  the  Society,  which, 
affecting  to  be  used  as  synonymes  for  vice,  not  infre- 
quently assume  the  language  of  virtue.  It  is  not  bene- 
ficial to  the  monarchical  principle  that  a  female  of  bad 
character  should  be  termed  a  courtesan  ;  nor  to  moral- 
ity, that  she  should  be  described  as  a  woman  of  pleasure. 
Such  lenient  periphrases  are  of  most  injurious  tendency ; 
and  if  the  Society  for  the  Suppression  of  Vice  have  failed 
to  interfere  for  their  discontinuance,  I  am  confident  that 
the  Institution  which  I  have  the  honour  to  address  will 
not  shrink  from^  the  full  performance  of  its  duty. 


220  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

Perhaps  I  may  be  subjecting  myself  to  the  imputa- 
tion of  a  Hysteron-proteron,  if,  after  noticing  the  abuses 
and  perversions  of  words,  I  proceed  to  those  of  individ- 
ual letters ;  but  the  importance  of  the  conclusions  to 
which  it  leads  induced  me  to  reserve  this  subject  for  my 
own  conclusion,  and  so  end  where  most  people  begin — 
with  the  alphabet.  So  obscure  and  incomprehensible 
is  the  origin  of  letters,  that  many  authors  have  been 
glad  to  solve  the  difficulty  of  their  invention  by  refer- 
ring hX  to  divine  inspiration.  In  that  case,  however, 
there  would  have  been  some  conformity  of  character, 
number,  and  sequence  ;  whereas  there  is  a  marked  dif- 
ference in  all  these  constituents  among  the  various  na- 
tions of  the  earth.  The  learned  author  of  Hermes  in- 
forms us,  that  to  about  twenty  plain  elementary  sounds 
we  owe  that  variety  of  articulate  voices  which  have  been 
sufficient  to  explain  the  sentiments  of  such  an  innume- 
rable multitude  as  all  the  past  and  present  generations 
of  men  ;  and  of  course  our  alphabet,  assuming  this  hy- 
pothesis to  be  true,  might  be  much  contracted.  Yet 
there  are  others  still  more  numerous,  embracing  all  num- 
bers up  to  the  Chinese,  which  reckons  by  thousands, 
and  assuming  every  variety  of  collocation,  without  any 
one  people  being  able  to  assign  reasons  for  deviating 
from  the  order  of  its  neighbours.  An  elucidation  of 
this  curious  subject  is  well  worth  the  most  serious  atten- 
tion of  the  Society. 

The  Scholiasts  upon  that  ode  of  Anacreon  which 
describes  Cupid's  being  stung  by  a  bee,  state  him  to  have 
been  at  that  moment  learning  his  letters  ;  and  that  in 
perpetual  remembrance  of  the  pain  inflicted  by  his 
winged  assailant,  he  decreed  that  the  alphabet  should 


LETTER    TO    THE    NEW    LITERARY    SOCIETY.          221 


ever  after  commence  with  A  B.  Others  suppose  the 
whole  ode  to  be  allegorical,  expressing  how  much  Cupid 
felt  stung  and  nettled  at  being  compelled  to  undergo 
the  drudgery  of  learning  those  letters.  The  precedence 
of  B  to  C  has  been  explained  upon  the  principle  that  a 
man  must  be  before  he  can  see  ;  but  these,  I  apprehend, 
are  plausible  and  ingenious  conjectures,  unsupported  by 
any  great  philological  or  lexicographical  authorities. 
Many  curious  discoveries  have  already  been  made  in  the 
hidden  properties  of  letters,  and  the  number  might  be 
indefinitely  increased  by  the  stimulating  patronage  and 
ingenious  researches  of  the  Society.  But  for  the  inge- 
nuity of  recent  investigators,  we  should  never  have 
known  that  the  letter  S  was  of  essential  service  at  the 
siege  of  Gibraltar,  by  making  hot  shot ;  that  the  letter 
N  is  like  a  little  pig,  because  it  makes  a  sty  nasty :  that 
the  letters  U  V  can  never  go  out  to  dinner  because  they 
always  come  after  T ;  that  the  letters  oast  are  like  toast 
without  tea  (T) ;  and  that  a  barber  may  be  said  to  fetter 
the  alphabet,  because  he  ties  up  the  queues  and  puts  tou- 
pees in  irons.  These  most  important  additions  to  our 
philological  science  are  a  happy  foretaste  of  what  may 
be  accomplished  by  a  chartered  company  expressly  in- 
stituted for  the  encouragement  of  letters. 

My  limits  not  allowing  me  to  enter  at  length  into 
the  subject  of  our  hawkers'  and  pedlars'  literature,  vul- 
garly denominated  the  London  Cries,  I  shall  content 
myself  with  hinting  that  much  of  it  is  so  alarmingly 
dissonant  and  cacophonous,  as  to  need  a  thorough  emen- 
dation. The  wretches  who  yell — "  Hi-aw-Marakrel !" 
and  "  Owld  Clew  !"  should  be  compelled  to  articulate 
in  a  sweet  and  gracious  voice — "  Here  are  Mackarel " — 


222  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

and  "  Old  Clothes."  Our  murderous  dustmen's  bells 
have  converted  many  invalids,  by  depriving  them  of 
rest,  into  fit  materials  for  their  cart ;  and  as  their  cry  is 
at  least  as  discordant  as  their  clapper,  I  would  have  all 
these  noisy  nuisances  converted  into  euphonious  melo- 
dists by  an  immediate  decree  of  the  Society.  The  post- 
man, as  a  man  of  letters,  will  of  course  receive  a  license 
to  bear  the  bell  wherever  he  goes  ;  and  the  muffin-man's 
tinkle  is  too  inoffensive  to  require  regulation.  The  great 
majority  of  our  cries  demand  revision ;  but  I  would 
have  no  innovation  upon  the  milkwoman's — 'mi-eau ! 
(probably  handed  down  to  us  from  the  Norman  times,) 
which  is  not  only  valuable  as  an  antiquity,  but  as  a 
frank  confession  that  one-half  of  the  commodity  she  vends 
is  water. 

From  words,  which  are  the  signs  of  ideas,  the  Soci- 
ety may  turn  their  attention  to  the  signs  of  our  public- 
houses,  in  which  a  very  barbarous  taste  and  a  Gothic 
predilection  for  gorgons,  and  monsters,  and  chimseras 
dire,  is  still  but  too  visible.  Since  the  recent  discoveries 
in  the  interior  of  Asia,  we  are  warranted  in  retaining 
the  unicorn  for  our  national  arms  ;  but  the  good  taste 
of  the  Society  will  induce  them  to  visit  our  public-houses, 
and  procure  the  suppression  of  all  such  preposterous 
symbols  as  the  Phoenix,  the  Griffin,  the  Green-dragon, 
the  Blue-boar,  the  Red,  Silver,  and  Golden  Lions,  with 
a  hundred  others  ;  nor  will  they  allow  the  continuance 
of  such  anomalous  conjunctions  as  the  Green  Man  and 
Still,  which  a  recent  French  traveller  has  very  excusably 
translated,  "  LThoinme  vert  et  tranquille." 


LAMENTATION    UPON    THE    DECLINE    OF    BARBERS.  223 


A  LAMENTATION  UPON  THE  DECLINE  OF  BARBERS. 

When  they  who  lived  to  puff,  by  fortune  croas'd, 

Must  puff  to  live  ;  when  they  whose  fame  was  spread 
From  pole  to  pole  are  in  oblivion  lost, 

And  having  others  pinch'd,  are  pinch'd  for  bread  ; — 
When  by  more  sad  reverse  they  're  environ'd 

Than  any  told  of  Emperor  or  Caliph, 
And  they,  who  once  toupees  and  queues  have  iron'd, 

Must  mind  their  P's  and  Q's  to  'scape  the  bailiff, — 
Well  may  they  cry — "The  age  that  treats  us  thus, 

When  most  un-barber'd  is  most  barberous." 

IN  tracing  the  changes  produced  by  the  alteration  of 
human  habits  in  the  different  ages  and  nations  of  the 
world,  nothing  is  more  affecting  than  to  contemplate  the 
reverses  to  which  whole  classes  of  our  fellow-creatures 
are  exposed  by  sudden  fluctuations  of  fashion  ;  and  in 
all  the  sad  records  of  prostration  from  eminence  and  fa- 
vour to  obscurity  and  neglect,  we  doubt  whether  any 
can  offer  a  more  melancholy  contrast  than  the  past  and 
present  situation  of  our  Barbers.  With  the  embalmers 
of  the  dead,  and  forgers  of  armour  for  the  living,  whose 
"  occupation's  gone,"  we  sympathise  no  more  than  we 
shall  with  the  keepers  of  Lottery  Offices,  who  will  short- 
ly be  in  the  same  predicament :  their  pursuits  are  asso- 
ciated with  death,  blood,  and  rapine  ;  but  the  Barber's 
Profession  (for  by  a  statute  of  Henry  the  Eighth  it  is 
termed  a  science  and  a  mystery)  holds  affinity  with  ev- 
ery thing  that  is  gentle,  touching,  and  endearing.  Per- 
haps it  would  not  be  too  much  to  affirm  that  the  civili- 
zation of  a  state  cannot  be  measured  by  any  surer  cri- 
terion than  the  estimation  in  which  these  professors  are 


224  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

held  ;  and,  that  we  may  not  be  deemed  overweening  in 
our  veneration  for  their  craft,  we  will  endeavour  to  sup- 
port our  assertion  by  such  historical  evidence  as  more 
immediately  occurs  to  our  recollection. 

Beginning  with  the  Jews,  as  the  most  ancient  peo- 
ple, and  one  to  whom  the  Barber's  soothing  influence 
was  utterly  unknown,  we  may  remark  that  their  whole 
annals  are  a  tissue  of  violence,  horror,  and  abomination, 
which  finally  condemned  them  to  become  a  rejected 
race, — a  doom  from  which  a  portion  of  them  have  es- 
caped, in  modern  days,  by  subjecting  themselves  to  those 
great  civilizers,  the  wielders  of  the  razor;  while  the 
lower  orders,  who  still  wear  the  badge  of  reprobation 
upon  their  chins,  continue  in  a  state  of  comparative  bar- 
barism. And  yet  the  dangers  of  this  adherence  to  their 
hair  were  manifested  to  them  at  a  very  early  age. . 
When  David  sent  ambassadors  to  the  king  of  the  Am- 
monites, he  cut  off  one  half  of  their  beards  from  the 
side  of  the  face,  as  the  greatest  insult  he  could  offer, 
and  in  this  plight  escorted  them  back  to  their  master — 
an  indignity  which  could  not  have  been  inflicted,  had 
their  chins  been  in  a  more  advanced  state  of  civilization. 
Joab,  the  chief  captain  of  David,  seeing  Absalom  hang- 
ing upon  an  oak-tree  by  the  hair  of  the  head,  pierced 
him  to  death  ;  and  the  same  Joab,  while  he  took  Amasa 
by  the  beard  to  kiss  it,  treacherously  plunged  a  poniard 
into  his  body, — two  acts  of  barbarity  which  could  riot 
have  been  perpetrated  had  the  victims  been  submitted 
to  the  benign  practitioners  of  the  scissors  and  the  razor. 
The  men  most  remarkable  for  their  hair  seem  to  have 
been  always  the  most  hardened  in  iniquity,  and  to  have 
been  generally  singled  out  for  some  calamitous  fate.  To 


LAMENTATION    UPON    THE    DECLINE    OF    BARBERS.    225 

that  of  Absalom  we  have  already  adverted ;  Samson, 
whose  strength  was  in  his  hair,  after  having  been  blind- 
ed, was  crushed  for  his  wickedness ;  and  Esau,  another 
hairy  man,  is  expressly  stated  by  St.  Paul  to  have  been 
a  profane  person,  and  one  hated  of  God. 

During  the  most  barbarous  period  of  their  history, 
that  is  to  say,  up  to  the  time  of  Alexander  the  Great, 
the  Greeks  wore  their  beards ;  but  that  prince  ordered 
the  Macedonians  to  be  shaved,  lest  this  appendage  should 
afford  a  handle  to  their  enemies — a  most  sufficing  rea- 
son, for  one  can  hardly  conceive  a  less  enviable  situation 
than  to  find  a  vigorous  adversary  grasping  your  beard 
with  his  left  hand,  and  flourishing  a  sword  over  your 
head  with  his  right.  The  Conqueror  himself,  as  might 
have  been  expected  from  so  polished  and  magnanimous 
a  character,  kept  a  special  barber  in  his  house ;  and  the 
same  is  recorded  of  Julius  Caesar, — an  evidence  of  re- 
finement and  good  taste  for  which  the  latter  was  abun- 
dantly rewarded,  for  at  a  grand  entertainment  which  he 
gave  to  Cleopatra,  this  identical  barber  being  as  Plu- 
tarch says,  "  led  by  his  natural  caution  to  inquire  into 
every  thing,  and  to  listen  every  where  about  the  pal- 
ace," overheard  Achillas  the  general  and  Photinus  the 
eunuch  plotting  against  his  master,  whose  life  he  saved 
by  giving  immediate  information  of  the  conspiracy. 
His  successors  to  this  hour,  it  may  be  remarked,  are 
equally  inquisitive,  and  not  less  faithful  to  their  em- 
ployers. 

That  the   Barber's  shop  was  the  common  resort  of 

newsmongers  in  the  most  polished  days  of  Athens,  is 

attested  by  the  way  in  which  they  first  learnt  the  great 

defeat  of  their  general  Nicias  at  Syracuse.     A  stranger 

10* 


226  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

who  landed  in  the  Piraeus  mentioned  this  event  as  he 
sat  to  be  shaved,  and  the  Barber,  before  he  could  com- 
municate it  to  any  one  else,  running  into  the  city  to 
inform  the  magistrates,  was  interrogated  from  whom  he 
received  the  intelligence :  not  being  able  to  give  any 
satisfactory  answer,  he  was  seized  as  a  forger  of  false 
news,  fastened  to  the  wheel,  and  put  to  the  torture, 
which  he  endured  with  tonsorial  fortitude  till  several 
credible  persons  arrived  who  fully  confirmed  his  state- 
ment, Another  testimony  to  the  zeal,  constancy,  and 
veracity,  by  which  the  class  has  ever  been  distinguished. 
Pliny  observes,  that  up  to  the  454th  year  of  Rome, 
precisely  the  most  uncivilized  period  of  their  empire, 
the  Romans  had  no  barbel's ;  but  that,  at  that  epoch, 
P.  Ticinius  imported  a  supply  of  these  artists  from 
Sicily.  He  adds,  that  Scipio  Africanus  was  the  first 
who  introduced  the  fashion  of  shaving  every  day, — an 
improvement  which  confers  additional  credit  on  that 
illustrious  personage.  The  fourteen  first  Emperors  con- 
tinued this  laudable  practice,  until  the  reign  of  Adrian, 
who,  for  the  purpose  of  concealing  some  ugly  scars  upon 
his  face,  resumed  the  long  beard.  Julian  the  Apostate, 
it  is  said,  drove  all  the  barbers  from  his  Court,  and  took 
every  opportunity  of  evincing  that  his  love  of  beards 
was  at  least  commensurate  with  his  hatred  of  the 
Christians  ;  both  equally  derogatory  to  his  memory. 
Of  his  uncivilized  habits  and  inattention  to  cleanliness, 
we  may  sufficiently  judge  by  his  condescending  to  joke 
about  the  populousness  of  his  beard ;  and  though  there 
may  be  some  merit  in  his  only  noticing  the  lampoons 
of  the  people  of  Antioch  by  writing  against  them  his 
celebrated  Misopoguii,  or  Beard-hater,  it  would  have 


LAMENTATION    UPON    THE    DECLINE    OF    BARBERS.  227 

been  much  better  never  to  have  deserved  their  satire. 
He  wanted  but  a  barber  and  a  confessor,  to  haye  made 
him  a  great  character. 

The  Lombards,  or  Longobardi,  so  called  from  the 
length  of  their  beards,  were  of  course  enemies  to  the 
Barbers,  and  it  is  unnecessary  to  add  that  they  were  a 
cruel,  ferocious,  and  savage  race.  Peter  the  Great,  of 
Russia,  was  so  impressed  with  the  importance  of  Bar- 
bers in  polishing  a  nation,  that,  when  he  set  about 
civilizing  his  subjects,  one  of  his  first  edicts  was  to  com- 
mand them  to  cut  off  their  beards,  and  government 
operators  were  appointed,  with  instructions  to  shave  the 
refractory  by  force.  Without  going  into  any  more 
minute  detail,  it  may  be  sufficient  to  observe,  that  at 
the  present  moment  all  the  enlightened  and  civilized 
portions  of  the  earth  are  under  tonsorial  subjection, 
which  is  rejected  by  none  but  savages  and  barbarians. 
How  can  we  expect  the  Turks  to  do  otherwise  than 
massacre  their  Greek  prisoners,  when  they  swear  by 
one  another's  beards,  and  their  most  common  form  of 
benediction  is  to  exclaim — "  Allah  for  ever  preserve  your 
blessed  beard  ?" 

Perhaps  the  golden  age  of  the  knights  of  the  razor 
and  the  comb  is  to  be  sought  in  that  glorious  period  of 
our  history  when  they  were  yclept  Barber-chirurgeons, 
from  their  uniting  both  sciences,  and  a  lute  or  viol  was 
provided  in  every  shop  for  the  entertainment  of  waiting 
customers,  who  in  these  our  degenerate  days  are  fain  to 
solace  themselves  with  a  playbill,  or  a  yesterday's  news- 
paper. Then  was  it  that  their  party-coloured  ensign, 
the  pole,  like  the  ivy-bound  Thyrsus  of  the  Bacchana- 
lian Menades,  was  upreared  at  each  shop  to  typify  the 


228  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

staff  put  into  the  hand  of  every  patient  undergoing  the 
operation  of  phlebotomy ;  while  the  fillet  was  repre- 
sented by  the  white  band  with  which  the  pole  was  encir- 
cled. But,  alas !  what  are  sublunary  glories  and  dis- 
tinctions? By  a  statute  of  the  32d  Henry  the  Eighth, 

it  was  decreed  that "  No  person  using  any  shaving 

or  barbery  in  London,  shall  occupy  any  surgery,  letting 
of  blood  or  other  matter ;  drawing  of  teeth  only  ex- 
cepted.  And  no  person  using  the  mystery  or  craft  of 
surgery  shall  occupy  or  exercise  the  feat  or  craft  of  bar- 
bery or  shaving,  neither  by  himself,  nor  any  other  for 
his  use."  Thus  were  two  noble  professions  for  ever  dis- 
severed ;  nor  was  it  any  sufficing  compensation  that  the 
whole  head  was  abandoned  to  the  barbers,  for  in  pro- 
cess of  time  the  dentists,  a  hungry  generation,  living  as 
it  were  from  hand  to  mouth,  usurped  jurisdiction  over 
the  interior,  and  left  to  the  defrauded  barbers  nothing 
but  the  miserable  exterior  of  the  skull  for  their  entire 
patrimony. 

Even  with  these  limited  means,  however,  they  con- 
trived, at  no  distant  date,  to  render  themselves  opulent 
and  illustrious.  He  that  is  old  enough  to  remember 
the  reign  of  Pulvilio  and  Pomatum,  now  utterly  pass- 
ed away,  will  do  full  justice  to  the  former  dignity  and 
importance  of  these  practitioners.  When  a  cushion  re- 
posed amid  the  umbrageous  labyrinth  of  every  female 
head,  into  which  pins  of  nine  inches  long  were  thrust 
to  support  the  intricate  expansion  of  her  outfrizzed  hair, 
while  the  Artist  busily  plied  his  puff,  surcharged  with 
Marechale  or  brown  powder,  redolent  of  spice ; — when 
every  gentleman's  sconce  wwas  avy  with  voluminous 
and  involuted  curls,  and  he  sat  daily  in  his  powdering 


LAMENTATION    UPON    THE    DECLINE    OF    BARBERS.  229 

room,  then  an  indispensable  apartment,  gazing  through 
the  horny  eyes  of  his  mask  upon  his  puffing  decorator, 
dim  amid  the  cloud  of  dust  as  the  Juno  of  Ixion  : 
when  all  his  complicated  titivation  was  to  be  incurred 
with  aggravated  detail  before  every  dinner-party  or 
ball — then  was  the  time  that  the  Barbers,  like  the  celes- 
tial bodies,  which  have  great  glory  and  little  rest,  were 
harassed  and  honoured,  tipped  and  tormented,  coaxed 
and  cursed.  Then  was  the  time  that  a  COURTOIS  could 
amass  a  princely  fortune,  which  an  audacious  Mrs.  Phi- 
poe,  not  having  tonsorial  fear  before  her  eyes,  vainly 
endeavoured  to  appropriate.  And  I  appeal  to  the  ex- 
perienced reader,  whether  the  profession  did  not  at  this 
busy  period,  when  there  was  an  absolute  contention  for 
their  favours,  conduct  themselves  in  their  high  calling 
with  an  indefatigable  alertness  and  suavity,  shooting 
like  meteors  from  street  to  street,  plying  the  puff  morn- 
ing and  evening,  overnight  and  all  night,  and  often 
sacrificing  their  own  health  in  ministering  to  the  plea- 
sures of  others. 

Where,  indeed,  is  the  Barber  of  any  age  or  country 
against  whom  an  imputation  can  be  justly  levelled? 
His  is  one  of  the  fine  arts  which  pre-eminently  "  ernollit 
mores,  nee  sinit  esse  feros."  As  iron,  by  attrition  with 
the  magnet,  obtains  some  of  its  power  of  attraction,  so 
does  he,  by  always  associating  with  his  superiors,  acquire 
portion  of  their  polish  and  urbanity.  Shoemakers, 
tailors,  and  other  artisans  of  lonely  and  sedentary  life, 
are  generally  morose,  melancholy,  atrabilarious,  subject 
to  religious  hypochondriacism  ;  but  the  patron  of  the 
puff  is  locomotive  and  social  in  his  habits,  buoyant, 
brisk,  and  hilarious  in  his  temperament.  There  is  not, 


230  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

perhaps,  a  single  instance  of  a  fanatic  barber:  and  how 
many  traits  are  recorded  of  their  generous  forbearance. 
Alfieri  was  so  nervously  sensitive,  that  if  one  hair  was 
pulled  a  little  tighter  than  the  rest,  he  would  fly  into  a 
paroxysm  of  rage,  draw  his  sword,  and  threaten  to  des- 
troy the  offender ;  yet  such  was  his  confidence,  that  he 
would  the  next  moment  submit  his  throat  to  his  razor. 
How  calm  and  dignified  was  the  reply  of  one  of  this 
class  to  the  pimple-faced  madman,  who,  with  a  loaded 
pistol  in  his  hand,  compelled  him  to  take  oif  his  beard, 
declaring  that  if  he  cut  him  in  a  single  place,  he  would 
instantly  blow  out  his  brains.  After  successfully  accom- 
plishing his  difficult  task,  he  was  asked  whether  he  had 
not  been  terrified  during  the  operation.  "  No,  Sir,"  he 
replied,  "  for  the  moment  I  had  drawn  blood,  I  had 
made  up  my  mind  to  cut  your  throat ! " 

In  corroboration  of  our  estimate  of  this  character, 
let  it  be  added,  that  though  none  has  been  more  fre- 
quently handled  by  authors,  the  Barber  is  never  placed 
in  a  degrading  or  unworthy  light.  True  to  nature,  they 
may  occasionally  render  him  ridiculous,  but  never  odious. 
On  the  stage  we  have  been  delighted  with  his  eccentri- 
cities, from  him  of  Seville  down  to  Dickey  Gossip, 
whose  representative,  Suett,  with  his  rapid  and  ready 
cackle,  will  not  easily  be  forgotten.  Which  of  us  has 
not  laughed  at  the  chattering  impertinent  of  the  Arabian 
Nights,  who,  being  sent  for  to  shave  a  customer  in  all 
haste,  spent  a  long  time  in  preparing  his  apparatus, 
took  a  handsome  astrolabe  out  of  his  budget,  very 
gravely  measured  the  height  of  the  sun,  and  exclaimed 
— "  Sir,  you  will  be  pleased  to  know  that  this  day  is 
Friday  the  18th  of  the  month  SafFar,  in  the  year  653 


LAMENTATION    UPON    THE    DECLINE    OF    BARBERS.  231 

from  the  retreat  of  our  great  Prophet  from  Mecca  to 
Medina,  and  in  the  year  7320  of  the  epocha  of  the 
great  Iskender  with  two  horns," — and  finally  drove  the 
poor  man  out  of  his  wits  with  his  dilatory  loquacity  ? — 
Cervantes  expressly  informs  us  that  the  Curate,  and  Mr. 
Nicholas  the  Barber,  were  two  of  Don  Quixote's  "  best 
friends  and  companions ; "  and  it  is  remarkable  that  he 
not  only  selects  the  latter,  as  one  of  the  most  enlightened 
personages  in  the  neighbourhood,  to  assist  the  Licentiate 
in  the  expurgation  of  the  Knight's  library,  but  avails 
himself  of  his  talents  throughout  the  whole  work,  and 
mentions  him  upon  all  occasions  with  singular  respect 
and  affection.  Moreover,  upon  Sancho's  resolving  to 
have  a  Barber  of  his  own,  soon  after  the  affair  of  Mam- 
brino's  helmet,  Don  Quixote  applauds  his  resolution, 
places  that  functionary  above  a  master  of  the  horse,  and 
exclaims — "  Truly,  it  is  an  office  of  greater  confidence 
to  trim  the  beard  than  to  saddle  the  horse." — Nay, 
upon  another  occasion  he  even  elevates  it  above  divinity ; 
for,  when  it  was  proposed  that  they  should  invite  the 
Curate  and  the  Barber  to  join  them  in  their  Arcadian 
scheme,  and  assist  them  in  becoming  pastoral  and  poeti- 
cal, Don  Quixote  observes, — "Of. the  Curate  I  shall  say 
nothing,  though  I  should  lay  a  good  wager  that  his 
collars  and  points  are  truly  poetical :  and  that  Master 
Nicholas  is  in  the  same  fashion  I  do  not  at  all  doubt, 
for  people  of  his  profession  are  famous  for  making  ballads 
and  playing  on  the  guitar." 

Signor  Diego,  the  Barber  of  Olmedo,  is  represented 
in  Gil  Bias  as  a  generous  and  hospitable  personage ; 
while  the  sprightly,  quick-witted,  and  faithful  Fabricio 
the  poet,  inherited  his  virtues  and  his  talents  from  old 


232  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

Nunez,  another  operator  upon  the  chin.  STRAP,  the 
equally  faithful  companion  and  assistant  of  Roderick 
Random,  will  occur  to  all  readers;  and  a  hundred 
others,  "quos  numerare  taedet,"  might  easily  be  ad- 
duced ;  but  it  is  quite  sufficient  to  state,  in  conclusion, 
that  honourable  mention  has  been  made  of  the  tonsorial 
adept  both  by  Shakspeare  and  Sir  William  Curtis ! 

What  and  where  are  they  now,  the  representatives 
of  this  illustrious  line  of  ancestors  ?  They  may  indeed 
exclaim,  "  Eheu  !  fuimus  !  fuimus  ! "  With  the  excep- 
tion of  a  few  who  still  coldly  furnish  forth  the  heads  of 
our  divinity  and  law  professors,  they  are  all 

"Fallen!  fallen!  fallen!  fallen! 
Fallen  from  their  high  estate," 

and  languishing  in  inactivity  and  poverty.  Each  supports 
his  reverses  with  a  meek  though  dignified  resignation, 
and  each,  in  rebuke  of  this  ungrateful  era,  may  proudly 
exclaim  with  Lord  Verulam  in  his  Will — "For  my 
name  and  memory,  I  leave  it  to  men's  charitable 
speeches,  and  to  foreign  nations,  and  the  next  ages." 


SATIRISTS  OF  WOMEN. 

CHANCES    OF    FEMALE    HAPPINESS. 

"  But  what  so  pure  which  envious  tongues  will  spare  ? 
Some  wicked  wits  have  libelPd  all  the  fair." 

POPE. 

"  On  me  when  dunces  are  satiric, 
I  take  it  for  a  panegyric." 

SWIFT. 

ANACREON  being  asked  why  he  addressed  all  his  hymns 
to  women  and  none  to  the  gods,  answered, — u  Because 


SATIRISTS    OF    WOMEN.  233 

women  are  my  deities  ;"  and  the  ladies  were,  no  doubt, 
mightily  indebted  to  him  and  similar  voluptuaries,  who 
set  them  up  in  their  houses,  as  certain  barbarous  nations 
did  their  Lares  and  Lemures,  for  playthings  and  orna- 
ments, to  be  deified  when  their  owners  were  in  good 
luck  and  good  humour,  and  vilipended  and  trodden 
under  foot  in  every  access  of  passion  or  reverse  of  for- 
tune. Little  flattering  as  is  such  praise,  it  is  still  observ- 
able that  the  ancient  writers  seldom  abused  the  sex  "  in 
good  set  terms,"  or  carried  their  vituperation  beyond 
the  excusable  limits  of  raillery  and  a  joke.  Socrates 
vented  only  witticisms  against  Xantippe :  Xenarchus, 
the  comic  poet,  in  noticing  that  none  but  the  male  grass- 
hoppers sing,  exclaims,  "How  happy  are  they  in  hav- 
ing dumb  wives !"  and  Ebulus,  another  old  Grecian 
jester,  after  mentioning  the  atrocities  of  Medea,  Clytem- 
nestra,  and  Phaedra,  says  it  is  but  fair  that  he  should 
proceed  to  enumerate  the  virtuous  heroines,  when  he 
suddenly  stops  short,  wickedly  pretending  that  he  can- 
not recollect  a  single  one.  Among  the  Romans  we 
know  that  Juvenal  dedicated  his  sixth  Satire  to  the 
abuse  of  the  fair  sex,  but  his  worst  charge  only  accuses 
them  of  being  as  bad  as  the  men  ;  and  if  we  are  to  in- 
fer that  the  licentiousness  of  his  own  life  was  at  all 
equal  to  the  grossness  of  his  language,  we  may  safely 
presume  that  his  female  acquaintance  were  not  among 
the  most  favourable  specimens  of  the  race.  The  unnat- 
ural state  of  Monachism  has  been  the  bitter  fountain 
whence  has  flowed  most  of  the  still  more  unnatural 
abuse  of  women  ;  the  dark  ages  have  supplied  all  the 
great  luminaries  of  Mysogyny,  who  have  ransacked 
their  imaginations  to  supply  reasons  for  perverted  religion, 


234  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

and  excuses  for  violated  humanity.  Valerius's  Letters 
to  Rufinus,  the  Golden  Book  of  Theophrastus,  and  St. 
Jerome's  Exhortations  to  Celibacy,  have  furnished  all 
authors,  from  the  Romance  of  the  Rose  downwards, 
with  materials  for  this  unmanly  warfare — so  narrow  is 
the  basis  on  which  are  grounded  all  the  sorry  jests, 
shallow  arguments,  and  pitiful  scandals  of  ribalds  and 
lampooners  ;  and  so  easy  is  it  to  obtain  a  reputation  for 
that  species  of  wit  which,  as  Johnson  says  of  Scriptural 
parody,  "  a  good  man  detests  for  its  immorality,  and  a 
clever  one  despises  for  its  facility." 

Chaucer's  Wife  of  Bath,  Merchant's  Tale,  &c.,  all 
borrowed  from  the  above-mentioned  sources,  were  little 
more  than  good-humoured,  though  gross  caricatures  ; 
Boileau,  whose  tenth  Satire  is  a  more  bitter  denuncia- 
tion, should  have  recollected,  that  he  was  naturally  as 
well  as  professionally  compelled  to  celibacy,  and  might 
have  consulted  his  friend  Fontenelle  upon  the  fable  of 
the  Fox  and  the  Grapes  :  it  was  perhaps  to  be  expected 
that  the  melancholy  Dr.  Young,  who  undervalued  hu- 
man nature  and  happiness,  should  have  levelled  his 
shafts  against  the  masterpiece  of  one  and  the  dispenser 
of  the  other — Woman  ! — but  what  shall  we  say  of  the 
contemporary  satirists,  Pope  and  Swift,  each  of  whom, 
after  trifling  with  and  inveigling  the  affections  of  two 
accomplished  ladies,  who  sacrificed  every  thing  to  the 
promotion  of  their  happiness,  slunk  back  from  marriage, 
or,  if  married,  were  not  only  mean  and  cowardly  enough 
to  conceal  it,  but  ungrateful  enough  to  publish  heartless 
libels  against  the  whole  sex  ?  Let  this  be  always  recol- 
lected when  any  one  ventures  the  hackneyed  quotations 
from  Pope,  "  Every  woman  is  at  heart  a  rake  " — "  Most 


SATIRISTS    OF    WOMEN.  235 

women  have  no  characters  at  all  " — "  The  love  of  pleas- 
ure and  the  love  of  sway  :"  with  other  citations  equally 
just  and  novel.  As  to  Swift,  he  can  luckily  be  seldom 
quoted  in  decent  company  ;  yet  even  he  could  confess 
that  the  grossness  and  degeneracy  of  conversation  ob- 
servable in  his  time  were  mainly  attributed  to  the  exclu- 
sion of  women  from  society.  Conscious  that  this  self- 
spotting  calumny  is  somewhat  like  spitting  against  the 
wind,  modern  writers  have  generally  had  the  good  sense 
to  avoid  putting  themselves  in  the  way  of  its  recoil ; 
and  if  a  late  noble  author  delighted  to  vent  his  spleen 
against  the  sex  in  general,  and  his  wife  in  particular,  he 
might  plead  in  his  defence  that  which  I  believe  might 
be  adduced  by  all  similar  libellers — 

"  Forgiveness  to  the  injured  doth  belong ; 
They  never  pardon  who  commit  the  wrong." 

Nor  be  it  forgotten  that  such  men  may  be  only  ex- 
emplifying the  fable  of  the  Painter  and  the  Lion,  for 
it  is  easier  to  traduce  fifty  women  than  practise  one 
virtue. 


-  "  Women  want  the  ways 


To  praise  their  deeds,  but  men  want  deeds  to  praise." 

I  do  not  merely  admire  women  as  the  most  beauti- 
ful objects  of  creation,  or  love  them  as  the  sole  sources 
of  happiness,  but  I  reverence  them  as  the  redeeming 
glories  of  humanity,  the  sanctuaries  of  the  virtues,  the 
pledges  and  antepast  of  those  perfect  qualities  of 
the  head  and  heart,  combined  with  attractive  external 
charms,  which,  by  their  union,  almost  exalt  the  human 
into  the  angelic  character.  Taxation  and  luxury,  and 


236  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

struggles  for  existence,  have  made  us  such  a  cold,  selfish, 
plodding  nation,  that  we  should  be  base  indeed,  were  it 
not  for  the  disinterestedness  and  enthusiasm  of  our 
females,  whose  romance  is  necessary  to  qualify  the  pain- 
ful reality  of  our  existence.  And  yet,  from  the  first 
moment  when  I  began  to  reflect,  I  have  always  thanked 
God  that  I  was  not  born  a  woman,  deeming  them  the 
bestowers  rather  than  enjoyers  of  happiness — the  flow- 
er-crowned victims  offered  up  to  the  human  lord  of  the 
Creation. 

Passing  over  the  early  period  of  her  life,  which, 
however,  is  one  of  perpetual  restraint  and  unvaried  sub- 
jection to  the  most  self-denying  forms  and  observances, 
we  will  suppose  a  female  to  have  attained  a  fitting  age 
for  that  great  and  paramount  end  of  her  being — mar- 
riage. Men  have  a  thousand  objects  in  life — the  pro- 
fessions, glory,  ambition,  the  arts,  authorship,  advance- 
ment, and  money-getting,  in  all  their  ramifications,  each 
sufficient  to  absorb  their  minds  and  supply  substitutes 
in  case  of  primary  failure ;  but  if  a  woman  succeed  not 
in  the  one  sole  hope  of  her  hazardous  career,  she  is  ut- 
terly lost  to  all  the  purposes  of  exertion  or  happiness ; 
the  past  has  been  all  thrown  away,  and  the  future  pre- 
sents little  but  cheerless  desolation.  Love  is  only  a 
luxury  to  man,  but  it  may  be  termed  a  necessary  to 
woman,  both  by  the  constitution  of  society  and  the  de- 
crees of  nature ;  for  she  has  endowed  them  with  supe- 
rior susceptibility  and  overflowing  affections,  which  if 
they  be  not  provided  with  an  object,  perpetually  corrode 
and  gnaw  the  heart.  And  what  are  her  feelings  and 
chances  in  this  fearful  lottery  ? — A  constant  sense  of 
degradation,  in  being  compelled  to  make  her  whole  life 


SATIRISTS    OF    WOMEN.  23*7 

a  game,  a  manoeuvre,  a  speculation ;  while  she  is  haunt- 
ed with  the  fear  of  ultimate  failure.  And  how  alarm- 
ingly must  the  number  of  these  involuntary  nuns  in- 
crease with  the  yearly  augmenting  distress  of  taxed, 
and  luxurious,  and  expensive  England,  where  the  moral 
restraint  of  Malthus,  while  it  inflicts  no  privations  upon 
the  man,  condemns  the  female  to  an  utter  blighting  of 
the  soul,  aggravated,  perhaps,  by  dependency  or  want. 
Blistered  be  the  tongue  that  can  ridicule,  and  paralyzed 
the  hand  that  can  libel  those  victims  of  an  artificial  and 
unnatural  system  who  have  been  unfeelingly  taunted  as 
Old  Maids !  Well  could  I  excuse  them,  if,  in  the  bit- 
terness of  sickened  hope  and  the  idleness  of  unjoyous 
solitude,  they  were  even  prone  to  exercise  a  vigilant 
censorship  over  the  peccadilloes  of  their  more  fortunate 
rivals  ;  but  I  repel  the  charge,  and  can  safely  affirm 
that  some  of  the  most  amiable,  kind-hearted,  liberal 
women  I  have  ever  known,  were  in  this  calumniated 
class. 

One  chance  of  "  single  blessedness"  is  still  reserved 
for  these  Celibates.  Their  affections,  unclaimed  upon 
earth,  sometimes  seek  a  recipient  in  the  skies ;  respond- 
ing to  the  manifestations  of  divine  love  which  they  see 
on  every  side  of  them,  they  draw  down  religious  light- 
ning direct  from  Heaven,  while  men  seek  conductors, 
which  only  guide  it  towards  the  earth.  The  devotion 
"of  the  former,  as  it  is  founded  upon  feeling,  may  be 
uninquiring,  and  have  a  tendency  to  enthusiasm,  but  it 
will  be  cheerful  and  happy,  because  emanating  from 
the  heart ;  the  latter  approach  this  subject  with  their 
heads — a  process  which  not  unfrequently  makes  them 
sceptics,  or  bigots,  or  hypocrites. 


238  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

But  let  us  suppose  the  happier  case  of  a  young  wo- 
man, who,  from  her  beauty  or  fortune,  is  sure  to  receive 
offers — that  is  to  say,  who  will  attract  fools  or  sharpers, 
and  be  taken  as  a  necessary  appendage  of  her  face  or 
her  purse.  Even  here,  how  little  selection  is  allowed  to 
her — she  may  reject  one,  perhaps  two  ;  but  if  the 
third  be  merely  free  from  positive  objections,  prudence 
urges  his  acceptance,  relations  second  prudence,  and  she 
marries  a  man  because  he  affords  her  no  good  excuse 
for  hating  him.  The  Circassians  of  Europe  have  little 
more  choice  than  their  namesakes  of  Asia.  "  The  hap- 
py pair"  begin  by  committing  a  great  mistake — they 
withdraw  themselves  from  the  world  to  spend  the 
honeymoon  together :  familiarity  produces  its  usual  ef- 
fects ;  they  see  too  much  of  one  another  at  first,  and  the 
results  are  exhaustion  and  ennui.  She  who  marries  an 
Idler,  who  will  hang  upon  her  society  till  she  is  wearied, 
and  then  seek  recreation  elsewhere,  has  not  so  many 
chances  of  happiness  as  the  woman  whose  husband  is 
compelled  to  tear  himself  from  her  company  for  his  du- 
ties, and  gladly  returns  to  it  for  his  enjoyments. 

A  man's  love  generally  diminishes  after  marriage, 
while  a  woman's  increases  ;  both  of  which  results  might 
have  been  anticipated  :  for  that  appetite,  either  of  per- 
son or  purse,  which  the  Bridegroom  too  often  dignifies 
with  the  name  of  love,  disappears  with  enjoyment ; 
while  the  bride,  whose  affections  were  perhaps  little' 
interested  at  first,  finds  them  imperceptibly  kindled  by 
a  sense  of  duty,  by  the  consciousness  of  her  dependence, 
and  the  gratification  and  novelty  which  her  total  change 
of  life  invariably  presents  at  the  outset.  Awakening 
from,  this  trance,  she  has  leisure  to  discover  that  she  has 


SATIRISTS    OF    WOMEN.  239 

made  over  to  her  lord  and  master,  strictly  and  truly  so 
designated,  not  only  all  her  present  possessions,  but  all 
her  future  expectations — all  that  she  may  even  earn  by 
her  talents : — she  has  not  become  his  servant,  for  ser- 
vants, if  ill  used,  may  depart,  and  try  to  better  them- 
selves elsewhere ;  but  his  serf,  his  slave,  his  white  negro, 
whom,  according  to  Judge  Buller,  (himself  a  married 
man,)  he  may  correct  with  a  stick  of  the  same  thickness 
as  his  thumb,  whatever  may  be  its  dimensions.  We 
hear  of  rosy  fetters,  the  silken  chains  of  love,  the  soft 
yoke  of  Hymen — but  who  is  to  bear  the  soul-grinding 
bondage  of  dislike,  contempt,  hatred  ?  How  is  a  wo- 
man to  avoid  these  feelings  if  she  be  maltreated  and  in- 
sulted ;  and  how  is  she  to  redress  her  wrongs  ?  The 
laws,  made  by  the  men,  and  therefore  flagrantly  in 
their  own  favour,  provide  no  remedy :  if  she  use  her 
sole  weapon,  the  tongue,  she  is  proclaimed  a  scold,  a 
shrew,  and  reminded  of  the  ducking-stool ;  if  she  make 
his  own  house  uncomfortable  to  her  husband,  every 
body's  else  is  open  to  him  ;  he  may  violate  his  mar- 
riage-vow, and  is  still  a  marvellous  proper  gentleman ; 
he  may  associate  with  profligates,  and  his  friends  ex- 
claim— "  Poor  man  !  he  has  been  driven  to  this  by  a 
bad  wife !"  If  the  deserted  and  injured  woman  mean- 
time seek  relief  from  her  sorrows  in  the  most  innocent 
recreation,  Spite,  with  its  Argus  eyes,  keeps  watch  upon 
her  door,  and  Calumny  dogs  her  footsteps,  hissing  at 
her  with  its  thousand  tongues,  and  spitting  out  lies  and 
poison  from  every  one.  Let  no  man  choose  me  for 
umpire  in  a  conjugal  dispute.  I  need  not  ask  who  is 
the  delinquent — my  heart  has  decided  against  him  by 
anticipation. 


240  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 


Such,  I  shall  be  told,  is  the  result  of  uncongenial 
unions ;  but  it  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  men  seek 
congeniality  in  their  wives.  In  friends,  who  are  to 
share  their  sports  and  pursuits  ;  to  accompany  them  in 
shooting,  hunting,  fishing;  to  talk  politics  or  religion 
over  a  bottle  ;  they  naturally  select  similarity  of  tastes : 
but  women  are  to  do  nothing  of  all  this ;  they  are 
chosen  for  their  domestic  duties,  and  as  these  are  per- 
fectly distinct  from  the  man's,  he  looks  out  for  contrast 
rather  than  uniformity.  Hence  the  male  horror  of  Blue- 
stockings, the  sneer  with  which  every  blockhead  ex- 
claims— "  Our  wives  read  Milton  and  our  daughters 
play  !"  the  alacrity  with  which  he  assumes  that  such 
learned  ladies  must  necessarily  "  make  sloppy  tea,  and 
wear  their  shoes  down  at  heel;"  and  the  convincing 
self-applause  with  which  he  quotes  the  trite  epigram — 

"  Though  Artemisia  talks  by  fits 
Of  councils,  fathers,  classics,  wits, 

Reads  Malbranche,  Boyle,  and  Locke,"  <fec. 

Let  us  imagine,  not  a  patient  stock-fish,  like  Gri- 
selda,  but  an  accomplished  woman,  "  paired,  not  match- 
ed," with  "  a  sullen  silent  sot,  one  who  is  ever  musing 
but  never  thinks,"  an  animal  who,  like  London  small-, 
beer,  gets  sour  if  not  soon  drunk ; — or  united  to  a  drone 
and  a  dunce,  who  lounges  all  day  long  before  the  fire, 
spitting  into  it  like  a  great  roasting  apple ; — or  sub- 
mitted to  the  caprices  of  a  man  who  keeps  his  good 
temper  for  company  and  his  bad  for  his  wife ;  abroad 
as  smiling  and  promising  as  a  Siberian  crab,  while  at 
home  his  heart's  core  is  as  sour ; — or  tormented  with  a 
profligate,  who But  I  must  have  done,  al- 


STEAM-BOAT    FROM    LONDON    TO    CALAIS.  241 

though  I  have  not  half  finished,  for  I  might  stretch  the 
line  to  the  crack  of  doom.  When  I  consider  all  the 
hardships  and  trials  to  which  the  fair  sex  are  subject  by 
those  unjust  institutions  of  society  which  exact  the 
greatest  strength  from  the  weakest  vessel,  and  reflect, 
moreover,  that  Nature  has  unkindly  imposed  upon  it 
all  the  pains  and  penalties  of  continuing  the  race,  I  can 
only  repeat  once  more,  that  I  thank  Heaven  for  not 
having  made  me  a  woman. 


THE  STEAM-BOAT  FROM  LONDON  TO  CALAIS. 

If  true  politeness  be  display'd, 

As  Chesterfield  has  somewhere  said, 

By  anti-risibility ; 

They  who  are  fond  of  grins  and  jokes, 
Have  clearly  naught  to  do  with  folks 

Of  saturnine  gentility. 

WTierefore,  kind  reader,  if  you  share 
Whitechapel  laughs,  and  vulgar  fare, 

Beneath  our  Steam-boat's  banners, 
Be  not  fastidious  when  'tis  done, 
Nor  cry "  I  don't  object  to  fun 

But  can't  abide  low  manners." 

"  BLESS  my  heart !  Mrs.  Suet  here ! — Ah,  Mrs.  Hog- 
gins, how  d'ye  do  ? — Dear  me !  Mrs.  Sweatbread, 
and  Mrs.  Cleaver  too  !  Why,  we  shall  have  the  whole 
of  Whitechapel  on  board  presently. — I  believe,"  said  the 
voluble  dame,  looking  round  with  a  gracious  and  com- 
prehensive smile,  "  I  believe  we  are  all  butchers'  ladies," 
11 


242  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

— "  I  believe  we  ar'n't  no  such  a  thing,  Ma'am,"  cried 
a  corpulent  female  with  an  oleaginous  face,  while,  trying 
to  turn  up  her  pug-nose,  which  however  was  kept  toler- 
ably steady  by  a  triple  chin,  she  waddled  away  to  an- 
other part  of  the  vessel. — "  Well,  I  'm  sure !  Marry, 
come  up !  Hoity,  toity !"  burst  from  the  coterie  with 
which  she  had  disclaimed  carnificial  affinity ;  "  here  's 
airs  for  you !" — "  And  her  veil's  only  bobbinet  lace," 
cried  one ; — "  And  them  fine  ear-rings  is  only  gilt,  I 
warrant  ye,"  said  another. — "  Well,  I  do  declare,  there's 
neighbour  Croak,  the  undertaker,  with  his  long  woe- 
begone phiz ;  it  gives  one  quite  the  blue-devils  to  look 
at  him.  I  say,  Croak,  who  is  that  stuck-up  fat  thing 
that  just  left  us  ?" — "  Don't  you  know  her  ?" — inquired 
Croak,  in  a  whisper  ;  "  why,  that's  Mrs.  Dip,  the  great 
tallow-chandler's  lady,  of  Norton  Falgate." — "Well, 
suppose  she  is,  she  needn't  turn  her  nose  up  at  us :  if 
we  were  to  call  upon  her  on  melting-day,  we  might 
have  something  to  turn  up  our  noses  at,  I  fancy,  ha,  ha, 
ha !  Lauk !  how  serious  you  look  ;  she  isn't  a  friend 
of  yours,  is  she  ?" — "  I  never  laughs  at  nobody,"  replied 
the  prudent  Mr.  Croak,  "for  in  our  line  every  body's 
liable  to  become  a  customer.  Your  poor  brother  Joe, 
Ma'am,  made  a  very  pretty  corpse.  I  dare  say,  when 
he  was  setting  off  on  that  water-party,  just  as  we  may 
be  now,  he  little  thought  he  was  to  be  drown'd ;  and 
who  knows  what  may  happen  to  us  this  very  day  ?" — 
"La,  Mr.  Croak,  you're  quite  shocking;  worse  than  a 
screech  owl :  I  wonder  you  could  join  a  party  of  plea- 
sure."— "  Pleasure,  indeed !"  cried  Croak,  with  a  sardonic 
grin,  followed  by  a  groan ;  "  brother  Tom  lies  dead  at 
Calais,  and  one  wouldn't  give  the  job  to  strangers,  you 


STEAM-BOAT    FROM    LONDON    TO    CALAIS.  243 

know,  being  in  one's  own  line." — "  Is  poor  Tom  gone 
at  last  ?  you  used  to  call  him  Silly  Tom,  didn't  you  ?" 
— "  No,"  said  Croak,  surlily ;  "  I  always  call'd  him  Tom 
Fool." — "  Well,  but  he  has  left  you  and  George  some- 
thing, hasn't  he  ?" — "  Yes,"  replied  the  undertaker, 
giving  his  lower  jaw  a  still  more  lugubrious  expansion, 
"  he  has  bequeathed  to  one  of  us  the  payment  of  his 
debts,  and  to  the  other  the  care  of  his  children." — 
"  Well,  well,  Mr.  Croak,  it  ought,  at  all  events,  to  make 
you  happy,  that  you've  now  got  a  fair  excuse  for  being 
miserable." 

"I'll  take  your  bundle,  young  gentleman,"  said  the 
ship's  steward,  addressing  a  youth  by  my  side,  who,  I 
found,  was  Mrs.  Cleaver's  son  ;  and  whose  sallow  com- 
plexion, spindle  legs,  lank  hair,  squinting  eyes,  and  look 
of  impudent  cunning,  proclaimed  him,  at  the  same  time, 
a  genuine  son  of  the  City. — "  No,  but  you  von't  tho'," 
said  the  young  Cockney,  holding  his  bundle  behind 
him  ;  "  I  understands  trap ;  I'm  up  to  snuff  and  a  pinch 
above  it ;  I'm  not  to  be  diddled  in  that  there  vay.  I 
s'pose  you  thought  mother  and  I  vas  going  to  pay  a 
crown  a-piece  for  our  dinner ;  but  ve  don't  stand  no 
nonsense,  for  I've  got  a  cold  beaf-steak  and  inguns  in 
this  here  'ankerchief,  and  that,  vith  a  glass  of  brandy 
and  vater  cold,  arout  sugar,  is  vhat  I  call  a  prime  spread." 
— "  Bravo,  Dick  !"  said  the  delighted  mother,  winking 
at  her  son ;  "  if  they  can  take  you  in,  I  give  'em  leave. 
As  I  hope  to  be  saved,  here's  Mr.  Smart  the  tanner ; 
well,  now  we  shall  have  some  fun." — "  Ladies,"  cried  the 
facetious  Mr.  Smart,  sliding  forward  his  foot,  and  making 
a  bow  of  mock  ceremony,  "  your  most  hydrostatic  and 
humblecumdumble." — "There  you  go,  Mr.  Smart,  as 


244  GAIETIES    AND  JGRAVITIES. 

droll  as  ever,  always  beginning  the  conversation  with  a 
repartee.  Did  you  hear  that,  Mrs.  S.  ?  that  was  a  good'n ; 
wasn't  it,  Mrs.  H.  I"—"  That  there  tower,  mother,"  said 
Dick,  with  a  sagacious  nod,  "vas  built  by  Villiam  the 
Conqueror ;  I  vonder  vhy  they  stuck  hoyster  shells  all 
over  it." — "  I  suppose,"  cried  Mr.  Smart,  "  to  show  that 
he  astonished  the  natives  in  more  ways  than  one,  ha, 
ha,  ha !" — Dick  laughed,  though  he  didn't  know  why  ; 
and,  pulling  up  his  neckcloth,  proceeded  to  give  his 
mother  a  lesson  in  English  history. — "  It  vas  his  dad, 
you  know,  that  vas  called  Villiam  Rufus,  on  account  of 
his  black  'air,  and  vas  shot  by  a  hill-directed  harrow, 
vhich  vent  right  thro'  his  'art "  "  And  fell  at  Har- 
row on  the  Hill,"  cried  Mr.  Smart,  "  whence  it  took  its 
name,  ha,  ha,  ha  !  Excuse  me,  Mrs.  Cleaver,  but  your 
son  has,  somehow,  picked  up  a  little  of  the  Cockney 
pronunciation." — "  Not  more,  Sir,  than  a  young  man 
should  have,  who  means  to  live  all  his  life  in  the  City. 
He  went  to  a  very  good  school." — "  And  master  vasn't  a 
coxcomb,"  added  Dick,  "  about  his  Wees  and  Haitches." 
— "  And,  at  all  events,"  resumed  Mrs.  Cleaver,  "  he 
seems  to  have  taught  the  boy  his  English  history 
thoroughly  :  not  that  I  like  that  sort  of  reading  myself; 
we  have  so  much  blood  and  slaughter  in  our  line,  that 
it 's  no  more  treat  to  me  than  figs  to  a  grocer's  wife  ; 
but  I  sometimes  make  our  Sal  read  to  me  the  explana- 
tion of  the  pictures  in  her  History  of  England,  and  I 

have  stood  upon  the  very  spot  in  Smithfield " 

"  O,  ay,"  cried  Dick,  interrupting  her,  "  vhere  that  feller 
knocked  the  other  feller  off  his  'orse  for  rebelling  against 
the  Lord  Mayor." 

"  What  lady  and  gentleman,"  bawled  the  Steward, 


STEAM-BOAT    FROM    LONDON    TO    CALAIS.  245 

"  belongs  to  this  here  hand-box,  and  this  here  spaniel  ?" 
— Whether  you  mean  it  or  not,  said  I  to  myself,  you 
shall  have  a  shilling  extra  for  the  sly  satire  of  making 
those  objects  the  principals,  and  the  human  beings  their 
mere  appendages  and  accessories  :  for  the  woman  is  too 
often  the  creature  of  her  cap,  on  whose  becomingness 
she  depends  for  the  temper  and  happiness  of  the  day; 
r.nd  the  gentleman  will  follow  his  dog  from  sunrise  to 
sunset,  through  bog  and  briar,  as  patiently  as  a  blind 
beggar ;  not,  however,  for  the  pleasure  of  picking  up 
halfpence,  but  of  knocking  down  partridges. 

I  listened  no  more,  at  that  time,  to  the  conversation 
around  me,  for  I  had  never  been  on  board  a  steam-ves- 
sel, and  as  I  observed  that  we  were  about  to  start,  I 
gave  all  my  attention  to  the  process.  The  mooring 
ropes  were  unbound — we  floated  out  into  the  clear  mid- 
channel — the  Captain  rang  a  little  bell  communicating 
with  the  people  stationed  at  the  works  below — when 
instantly  the  huge  machine  seemed  to  become  instinct 
with  life,  and  to  dart  down  the  river  with  the  rapidity 
and  roar  of  a  wild  animal  springing  upon  its  prey.  We 
shot  along  the  Thames  as  a  falling  star  flits  athwart  the 
heavens ;  objects  were  hardly  seen  before  they  were 
overtaken,  past,  and  again  out  of  sight ;  we  outstripped 
ships  pursuing  the  same  course,  at  full  sail,  with  a 
celerity  that  deceived  the  eye,  and  rendered  it  difficult 
to  believe  that  they  were  not  at  anchor.  As  I  saw 
our  prow  opening  to  itself  a  foaming  channel,  and 
ploughing  up  huge  waves  which  rocked  the  boats  and 
small  craft  as  they  rolled  to  the  banks,  I  could  hardly 
help  imagining  that  I  was  on  the  back  of  some  realised 
kraken,  that  was  swallowing  up  the  river  in  his  monstrous 


246  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

jaws ;  or,  converting  the  wheels  into  wide-spread  wings, 
I  fancied  myself  flying  through  the  air  on  the  back  oi 
the  Rok,  that  gigantic  bird  which  Sinbad  the  Sailor  en- 
countered in  his  travels  :  or  again,  as  I  yielded  to  the 
short  gallop-like  jerks  of  the  vessel's  motion,  I  dreamt 
that  I  was  bestriding  some  stupendous  griffin  or  hippo- 
griff,  and  beating  the  wind  in  a  race  across  the  desert. 
What  sensation  can  be  more  exhilarating  and  delight- 
ful than  this  incredible  speed,  without  the  smallest  per- 
sonal effort  ?  What  triumph  more  complete  than  this 
easy  conquest  over  all  our  competitors  ?  What  spectacle 
more  sublime  than  the  calm  majesty  of  the  vessel,  which, 
without  visible  effort  or  difficulty,  accomplishes  these 
miracles  through  the  instrumentality  of  an  impalpable 
vapour  ?  O  happy  triumph  of  audacious  art,  said  I  to 
myself,  which,  making  the  elements  minister  to  their 
own  conquest,  enables  us  to  shoot  along  the  surface,  and 
plough  up  the  bosom  of  the  river  by  means  of  a  little 
water  taken  from  its  channel,  as  the  arrow  that  pierced 
the  eagle's  heart  was  plumed  with  a  feather  stolen  from 
his  wino;! 

o 

Nor  could  I  help  admiring  the  docility  and  obedi- 
ence of  this  flying  wonder,  when,  in  the  midst  of  its 
velocity,  it  was  instantly  stopped  at  Blackwall,  that  we 
might  take  a  party  on  board;  a  delay  of  which  Mr. 
Smart  availed  himself  to  show  off  his  wit.  Tipping  the 
wink,  therefore,  to  his  companions,  he  told  them  he 
would  have  a  bit  of  gig  with  the  Irishman  who  was 
discharging  coals  from  a  collier  alongside,  and  accordingly 
he  hailed  him  with — "  Well,  Paddy,  how  are  coals  ?" — 
"  Black  as  ever,  your  Honour,"  said  the  man,  going  on 
with  his  work. — This  was  rather  a  repulse,  but  thinking 


STEAM-BOAT    FROM    LONDON    TO    CALAIS.  247 

something  might  be  made  of  the  fellow's  ears,  which 
were  of  rather  liberal  dimensions,  he  returned  to  the 
charge. — u  But  Paddy,  my  jewel,  why  don't  you  get 
your  ears  cropped  1  they  are  too  large  for  a  man." — 
"  And  yours  are  too  small  for  an  ass,"  retorted  the  Hi- 
bernian. Smart  joined  in  the  laugh,  but  with  a  much 
less  hearty  cackle  than  usual;  and,  instead  of  pursuing 
the  assault,  began  whistling  a  tune.  A  vessel  on  the 
other  side  happened  to  be  pumping  out  bilge-water,  and 
as  neither  the  butchers'  ladies  nor  Mrs.  Dip  had  ever 
been  accustomed  to  villainous  smells,  they  were,  of 
course,  particularly  horrified. — "  I  knew  ve  should  have 
this  here  stench,"  said  Dick,  "  I  sawr  it  a-coming." — "  I 
don't  know  how  you  could  see  a  smell,"  said  Mr.  Croak, 
making  a  wry  face. — "  Why,  don't  you  observe  that  he 
looks  through  his  nose  ?"  cried  Mr.  Smart,  laughing  im- 
moderately, to  make  up  for  his  two  former  failures.  This 
allusion  to  Dick's  squint  called  up  his  mother,  who  beg- 
ged to  inform  the  tanner,  that  it  was  neither  genteel 
nor  gentlemanly  to  run  his  rigs  upon  personal  defects, 
though,  she  thanked  God,  her  Dick  had  as  few  as  most 
people.  Dick,  by  way  of  turning  the  conversation, 
declared,  he  "  never  thought  they  had  such  fine  rivers 
in  the  country,  for  it  kept  getting  vider  and  vider." — 
"  You  will  find  it,"  resumed  Smart,  "  like  your  own  face, 
widest  across  at  the  mouth."  Whereat  Mrs.  Cleaver, 
in  great  dudgeon,  recommended  her  neighbour  to  keep 
his  tongue  within  his  teeth,  or  he  should  have  his 
shoulders  rubbed  down  with  an  oaken  towel.  Luckily, 
we  recommenced  our  flight;  some  musicians  on  board 
struck  up  a  waltz,  and  cheerfulness^ and  good  humour 


248  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

were  presently  restored ;  when,  in  the  midst  of  the 
general  hilarity,  Mr.  Croak's  husky  voice  was  heard. 

"  Shocking  account,  in  to-day's  paper,  of  a  steam- 
boat blown  up  in  America  !" — "  God  bless  me  !"  ex- 
claimed half  a  dozen  tongues  at  once ;  "  no  lives  lost,  I 
Lope." — "  Not  on  the  spot ;  no  such  luck  :  but  so 
dreadfully  scalded  that  the  flesh  fell  from  their  bones, 
and  after  living  some  days  in  great  agony,  fourteen 
people  died." — "  Dear  me  !  how  very  shocking !  but 
you  don't  think  there's  any  danger  here,  do  you,  Mr. 
Croak  ?  you  know  there's  an  Act  of  Parliament  to  re- 
gulate— "  "  Ay,  ay,  so  they  tell  us,  but  that's  all  non- 
sense. I  hope  we  shall  get  over  safe ;  I  hate  to  look  at 
the  black  side  of  things ;  but  we  shall  be  out  to  sea  in 
half  an  hour,  and  it  would  be  very  dreadful  if  any  thing 
was  to  happen ;  fire  and  water  both  to  fight  against : 
one  hundred  and  ten  people  on  board,  and  no  boat, 
perhaps,  within  sight  of  us." — "  Lauk,  Sir !"  exclaimed 
Mrs.  Sweetbread,  "  you  really  make  one  quite  nervous  ! 
well,  I'm  glad  the  fellow's  gone.  I  do  think  that  Croak's 
the  greatest  bore  upon  earth,  don't  you,  Mr.  Smart  ?" — 
"  No,  Ma'am,  I  think  him  the  greatest  bore  upon  water, 
ha,  ha,  ha !" 

The  party  were  just  talking  of  striking  up  a  dance, 
when  the  ill-omened  undertaker  returned. — "  Ladies,  I 
hope  you're  not  alarmed  at  what  I  said.  I  find  this 
is  the  best  built  of  all  the  vessels,  but  she  certainly 
seems  to  roll  and  tumble  very  much,  and  I  thought  I 
saw  flames  coming  out  of  the  chimney  just  now.  I 
dare  say  there's  nothing  wrong ;  but  I  observed  that 
the  man  at  the  boiler  looked  frightened,  and  whispered 
to  the  boy,  and  soon  after  asked  where  the  Captain 


STEAM-BOAT    FROM    LONDON    TO    CALAIS.  249 

was.  However,  I'm  quite  sure  it's  all  right.  The  Lord 
be  good  unto  us  !" — A  groan  followed  this  ejaculation, 
and  he  walked  off  as  if  he  had  been  taking  leave  of  the 
Ordinary  on  the  drop  at  Newgate. 

"  Why,  Dickey,  my  dear,"  said  Mrs.  Cleaver,  "  you 
look  pale  ;  I  hope  you  don't  mind  what  that  chap  says  ?" 
— "  No,  mother,  I  arn't  frit,  but  it  makes  one  feel  queer- 
ish,  for  on  board  ship  I  don't  pretend  to  be  aN  'ero." — 
"  I  hope  not,"  said  Mr.  Smart ;  "  nor  a  Caligula  either." 
— "  There  he  is,"  resumed  Dick,  "  sitting  on  that  there 
box  by  the  chimley,  all  alone  by  himself,  just  like  a 
hodd  brick  in  an  od,  or  a  howl  in  a  hivy  bush.  If  he 
vouldn't  take  the  lawr  of  me,  I  should  like  just  to  shove 
him  hoverboard  by  vay  of  a  bit  of  fun.  Only  look, 
mother,  at  them  trees ;  vhy,  they're  as  tall  as  Vhite- 
chapel  Church  ;  I  vonder  vether  they're  hoaks,  or  helms, 
or  hashes  ;  and,  I  dare  say,  Mr.  Smart  doesn't  know,  for 
all  he's  sich  a  vag.  La,  mother,  I  feels  quite  rumbus- 
tical  and  queer  ;  I  should  like  a  mug  of  vhite  vine  vhey ; 
at  all  events  I  '11  have  a  touch  at  the  wittles." — "  Who 
would  have  thought  of  a  good  thought  from  Dick  ?" 
said  Mr.  Smart ;  "  I  second  the  motion." — "  No  occa- 
sion," cried  Mrs.  Suet,  with  a  look  of  greedy  gladnesss, 
"  for  the  Steward  has  just  given  notice  that  dinner 's  all 
ready  in  the  cabin.  Come,  Mrs.  Hoggins,  Mrs.  Sweet- 
bread, Mrs.  Cleaver  !  dinner  's  ready ;  shall  I  show  you 
the  way  down  to  the  cabin  ?  we  mustn't  spoil  good 
victuals,  though  we  are  sure  of  good  company.  Lauk  ! 
what  a  monstrous  deal  of  smoke  comes  out  of  the 
chimney.  I  suppose  they  are  dressing  the  second 
course  ;  every  thing 's  roasted  by  steam,  they  say, — how 
excessively  clever !  As  to  Mrs.  Dip,  since  she 's  so  high 


250  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

and  mighty,  she  may  find  her  own  way  down.  What ! 
she  's  afraid  of  spoiling  her  fine  shawl,  I  reckon ;  though 
you  and  I  remember,  Mrs.  Hoggins,  when  her  five- 
shilling  Welsh- whittle  was  kept  for  Sunday's  church ; 
and  good  enough  too,  for  we  all  know  what  her  mother 
was.  Good  Heavens  !  here  comes  Undertaker  Croak  : 
do  let  me  go  out  of  his  way  ;  I  wouldn't  sit  next  to  him 
for  a  rump  and  dozen,  he  does  tell  such  dismal  stories 
that  it  quite  gives  one  the  blue-devils.  He  is  like  a 
night-mare,  isn't  he,  Mr.  Smart  ?" — "  He  may  be  like  a 
mare  by  night,"  replied  Mr.  Smart,  with  a  smirking 
chuckle,  "  but  T  consider  him  more  like  an  ass  by  day. 
He !  he !  he !"  Looking  round  for  applause  at  this 
sally,  he  held  out  his  elbows,  and  taking  a  lady,  or 
rather  a  female,  under  each  arm,  he  danced  towards  the 
hatchway,  exclaiming,  "  Now  I  am  ready  trussed  for 
table,  liver  under  one  wing  and  gizzard  under  the  other." 
— "  Keep  a  civil  tongue  in  your  head,  Mr.  Smart ;  I  don't 
quite  understand  being  called  a  liver — look  at  the 
sparks  coming  out  of  the  chimney,  I  declare  I  'HI  fright- 
ened to  death." — "  Well,  then  you  are  of  course  no 
longer  a  liver,"  resumed  the  facetious  Mr.  Smart ;  u  so 
we  may  as  well  apply  to  Mr.  Croak  to  bury  you." — "  O 
Gemini !  don't  talk  so  shocking  ;  I  had  rather  never  die 
at  all  than  have  such  a  fellow  as  that  to  bury  me." — 
"  Dickey,  my  dear  !"  cried  Mrs.  Cleaver  to  her  son,  who 
was  leaning  over  the  ship's  side  with  a  most  woe-begone 
and  emetical  expression  of  countenance,  "hadn't  you 
better  come  down  to  dinner  ?  There 's  a  nice  silver  side 
of  a  round  of  beef,  and  the  chump  end  of  a  line  o' 
mutton,  besides  a  rare  hock  of  bacon,  which  I  dare  say 
will  settle  your  stomach." — "  O  mother,"  replied  the 


STEAM-BOAT    FROM    LONDON    TO    CALAIS.  251 

young  Cockney,  "  that  'ere  cold  beef-steak  and  inguns 
vat  you  put  up  in  the  pocket-handkerchief,  vasn't  good, 
I  do  believe,  for  all  my  hinsides  are  of  a  work." — "  Tell 
'em  it's  a  holiday,"  cried  Smart. — "  0  dear,  O  dear !" 
continued  Dick,  whose  usual  brazen  tone  was  subdued 
into  a  lackadaisical  whine,  "  I  vant  to  reach  and  I  can't 
— vat  shall  I  do,  mother  ?" — "  Stand  on  tip-toe,  my 
darling,"  replied  Smart,  imitating  the  voice  of  Mrs. 
Cleaver,  who  began  to  take  in  high  dudgeon  this  horse- 
play of  her  neighbour,  and  was  proceeding  to  manifest 
her  displeasure  in  no  very  measured  terms,  when  she 
was  fortunately  separated  from  her  antagonist,  and  borne 
down  the  hatchway  by  the  dinner-desiring  crowd,  though 
sundry  echoes  of  the  words  "  Jackanapes  !"  and  "  im- 
perent  feller !"  continued  audible  above  the  confused 
gabble  of  the  gangway. 

"  Well,  but  Mr.  Smart,"  cries  Mrs.  Suet,  as  soon  as 
she  had  satisfied  the  first  cravings  of  her  appetite,  "  you 
promised  to  tell  me  all  about  the  steam,  and  explain 
what  it  is  that  makes  them  wheels  go  round  and  round 
as  fast  as  those  of  our  one-horse  chay,  when  Jem  Ball 
drives  the  trotting  mare." — "  Why,  Ma'am,  you  must 

understand- yes,  Ma'am,  you  saw  the  machinery,  I 

believe — (capital  boiled  beef)  there's  a  thing  goes  up 
and  a  thing  goes  down,  all  made  of  iron ;  well,  that's 
the  hydrostatic  principle ;  then  vyou  put  into  the 
boiler — (a  nice  leg  of  mutton,  Mrs.  Sweetbread) — let 
me  see,  where  was  I  ? — in  the  boiler,  I  believe,  Ah  ! 
it's  an  old  trick  of  mine  to  be  getting  into  hot  water. 
So,  Ma'am,  you  see  they  turn  all  the  smoke  that  comes 
from  the  fire  on  to  the  wheels,  and  that  makes  them 
spin  round,  just  as  the  smoke-jadk  in  our  chimneys 


252  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

turns  the  spit ;  and  then  there's  the  safety-valve  in  case 
of  danger,  which  lets  all  the  water  into  the  fire,  and  so 
puts  out  the  steam  at  once.  You  see,  Ma'am,  it's  very 
simple,  when  once  you  understand  the  trigonometry  of 
it." — "  0  perfectly,  but  I  never  had  it  properly  explained 
to  me  before.  It 's  vastly  clever,  isn't  it  ?  How  could 
they  think  of  it  ?  Shall  I  give  you  a  little  of  the  sallad  ? 
La,  it  isn't  dressed  ;  what  a  shame !" 

"  Not  at  all,"  cried  Smart,  "  none  of  us  dressed  for 
dinner,  so  that  we  can  hardly  expect  it  to  be  dressed 
for  us.  He !  he !  he !"— "  Did  you  hear  that,  Mrs.  H.  ?" 
exclaimed  Mrs.  Suet,  turning  to  Mrs.  Hoggins,  "  that 
was  a  good  one,  warn't  it  ?  Drat  it,  Smart,  you  are  a 
droll  one." 

Here  the  company  were  alarmed  by  a  terrified  groan 
from  Mr.  Croak,  who  ejaculated,  "  Heaven  have  mercy 
upon  us  !  did  you  hear  that  whizzing  noise  ? — there  it 
is  again  !  there's  something  wrong  in  the  boiler — if  it 
bursts,  we  shall  be  all  in  heaven  in  five  minutes." — "  The 
Lord  forbid !"  ejaculated  two  or  three  voices,  while 
others  began  to  scream,  and  were  preparing  to  quit  their 
places,  when  the  Steward  informed  them  it  was  nothing 
in  the  world  but  the  spare  steam  which  they  were  let- 
ting off. — "  Ay,  so  they  always  say,"  resumed  Croak, 
with  an  incredulous  tone  and  woe-begone  look  ;  "  but 
it  was  just  the  same  on  board  the  American  steam-boat 
that  I  was  telling  you  of — fifty-two  souls  sitting  at  din- 
ner, laughing  and  chatting  for  all  the  world  as  we  are 
now,  when  there  comes  a  whiz,  such  as  we  heard  a 
while  ago — God  help  us  !  there  it  is  once  more — and 
bang !  up  blew  the  boiler — fourteen  people  scalded  to 
death — large  pieces  of  their  flesh  found  upon  the  banks 


STEAM-BOAT    FROM    LONDON    TO    CALAIS.  253 

of  the  river,  and  a  little  finger  picked  up  next  day  in 
an  oyster-shell,  which  by  the  ring  upon  it  was  known 
to  be  the  Captain's.  But  don't  be  alarmed,  ladies  and 
gentlemen,  I  dare  say  we  shall  escape  any  scalding,  as 
we're  all  in  the  cabin,  and  so  we  shall  only  go  to  the 
bottom  smack !  Indeed  we  may  arrive  safe — they  do 
sometimes,  and  I  wish  we  may  now,  for  nobody  loves  a 
party  of  pleasure  more  than  I  do.  I  hate  to  look  upon 
the  gloomy  side  of  things  when  we  are  all  happy  to- 
gether (here  another  groan),  and  I  hope  I  haven't  said 
any  thing  to  lower  the  spirits  of  the  company." 

"  There's  no  occasion,"  cried  Smart,  "  for  I  saw  the 
Steward  putting  water  into  every  bottle  of  brandy." 
The  laugh  excited  by  this  bon-mot  tended  in  some  de- 
gree to  dissipate  the  alarm  and  gloom  which  the  boding 
Mr.  Croak  had  been  infusing  into  the  party  ;  and  Smart, 
by  way  of  fortifying  their  courage,  bade  them  remark 
that  the  sailors  were  obviously  under  no  sort  of  appre- 
hension. u  Ay,"  resumed  the  persevering  Mr.  Croak, 
"  they  are  used  to  it — it  is  their  business — they  are  bred 
to  the  sea." — "But  they  don't  want  to  be  bread  to  the 
fishes,  any  more  than  you  or  I,"  retorted  Smart,  chuck- 
ling at  his  having  the  best  of  the  nonsense. 

"Well,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Sweetbread,  "  I  never  tasted 
such  beer  as  this — flat  as  ditch-water  ;  they  should  have 
put  it  upon  the  cullender  to  let  the  water  run  out ;  and 
yet  you  have  been  drinking  it,  Smart,  and  never  said 
any  thing  about  it." — "  Madam,"  replied  the  party  thus 
addressed,  laying  his  hand  upon  his  heart,  and  looking 
very  serious,  "  I  make  it  a  rule  never  to  speak  ill  of  the 
dead. — I  am  eating  the  ham,  you  see,  and  yet  it  would 
be  much  better  if  I  were  to  let  it  exemplify  one  of 


254  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

Shakspeare's     soliloquies — Ham-let     alone." "  La ! 

you  're  such  a  wag,"  cried  Mrs.  Hoggins,  "  there's  no 
being  up  to  you  ;  but  if  you  don't  like  the  ham,  take  a 
slice  of  this  edge-bone — nothing's  better  than  cold  beef." 
— "  I  beg  your  pardon,  Madam,"  replied  the  indefatiga- 
ble joker — "  cold  beef's  better  than  nothing — Ha  !  ha  ! 
ha!" 

"  How  do  you  find  yourself  now,  my  darling  ?"  said 
Mrs.  Cleaver  to  her  son,  who  had  been  driven  below  by 
a  shower,  and  kept  his  hat  on,  because,  as  he  said,  his 
"  'air  was  quite  vet." — "  Vy,  mother,  I  have  been  as  sick 
aa  a  cat,  but  I'm  bang  up  now,  and  so  peckish  that  I 
feel  as  if  I  could  heat  any  thing." — "  Then  just  warm 
these  potatoes,"  said  Smart,  handing  him  the  dish,  "  for 
they  are  almost  cold." — "  I'll  thank  you  not  to  run  your 
rigs  upon  me,"  quoth  the  young  Cockney,  looking 
glumpish,  "  or  I  shall  fetch  you  a  vipe  vith  this  here 
hash-stick.  If  one  gives  you  a  hinch,  you  take  a  hell." 
— "  Never  mind  him,  my  dear,"  cried  his  mother,  "  eat 
this  mutton-chop,  it  will  do  you  good  ;  there's  no  gravy, 
for  Mr.  Smart  has  all  the  sauce  to  himself.  Haw  !  haw  ! 
haw  !" — "  Very  good  !"  exclaimed  the  latter,  clapping 
his  hands ;  "  egad  !  Ma'am,  you  are  as  good  a  wag  as 
your  own  double  chin."  This  was  only  ventured  in  a 
low  tone  of  voice,  and,  as  the  fat  dame  was  at  that  mo- 
ment handing  the  plate  to  her  son,  it  was  fortunately 
unheard.  Dick  being  still  rather  giddy,  contrived  to 
let  the  chop  fall  on  the  floor, — an  occurrence  at  which 
Mr.  Smart  declared  he  was  not  in  the  least  surprised, 
as  the  young  man,  when  first  he  came  into  the  cabin, 
looked  uncommonly  chop-fallen.  Dick,  however,  had 
presently  taken  a  place  at  the  table,  and  began  attack- 


STEAM-BOAT    FROM    LONDON    TO    CALAIS.  255 

ing  the  buttock  of  beef  with  great  vigour  and  vivacity, 
protesting  he  had  got  a  famous  "  happetite,"  and  felt 
"  as  ungry  as  an  ouncl." — "  I  never  say  any  thing  to 
discourage  any  body,"  said  Mr.  Croak,  "  particularly 
young  people  ;  it's  a  thing  I  hate,  but  t'other  day  a  fine 
lad  sate  down  to  his  dinner  in  this  very  packet,  after 
being  sea-sick,  just  as  you  may  be  doing  now,  when  it 
turned  out  he  had  broke  a  blood-vessel,  and  in  twelve 
hours  he  was  a  corpse,  and  a  very  pretty  one  he  made." 
"  I  'm  not  going  to  be  choused  out  of  my  dinner  for 
all  that,"  replied  the  youth,  munching  away  with  great 
industry,  and  at  the  same  time  calling  out — "  Steward  ! 
take  away  this  porter-pot,  it  runs." — "  I  doubt  that," 
cried  Smart. — "  I  say  it  does,"  resumed  Dick  angrily, 
"the  table-cloth  is  all  of  a  sop."— "I'll  bet  you  half- 
a-crown  it  doesn't."  '  Done !  and  done  !'  were  hastily 
exchanged,  when  Mr.  Smart,  looking  round  with  a 
smirk,  exclaimed — "  Ladies  and  gentlemen,  I  appeal  to 
every  one  of  you  whether  the  pot  has  not  been  perfectly 
still,  and  nothing  has  been  running  but  the  beer."  This 
elicited  a  shout  at  poor  Dick's  expense,  who  sullenly 
muttered,  "  I  'm  not  going  to  be  bamboozled  out  of  an 
'alf-crown  in  that  there  vay ;  and  vat's  more  I  von't  be 
made  a  standing  joke  by  no  man." — "  I  don't  see  how 
you  can,"  replied  his  antagonist,  "  so  long  as  you  are 
sitting." — "  Vy  are  you  like  a  case  of  ketchup  ?"  cried 
Dick,  venturing  for  once  to  become  the  assailant,  and 
immediately  replying  to  his  own  inquiry,  "  Because  you 
are  a  saucebox." — "  Haw  !  haw  !"  roared  his  mother, 
"  bravo,  Dick !  well  done,  Dick !  there's  a  proper  rap 
for  you,  Mr.  Smart." — Somewhat  nettled  at  this  joke, 
poor  as  it  was,  the  latter  returned  to  the  charge,  by  in- 
9* 


256  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

quiring  of  Dick  why  his  hat  was  like  a  giblet-pie  ?  and 
after  suffering  him  to  guess  two  or  three  times  in  vain, 
cried,  "Because  there's  a  goose's  head  in  it,"  and  in- 
stantly set  the  example  of  the  horse-laugh,  in  which  the 
company  joined.  Finding  he  was  getting  the  worst  of 
it,  Dick  thought  it  prudent  to  change  the  conversation, 
by  observing  that  it  would  luckily  be  "  'igh-vater  in 
the  arbour  vhen  they  arrived." — "  Then  I  recommend 
you  by  all  means  to  use  some  of  it,"  said  the  pertina- 
cious Mr.  Smart ;  "  perhaps  it  may  cure  your  squint." 

Both  mother  and  son  rose  up  in  wrath  at  this  per- 
sonality, and  there  would  infallibly  have  been  a  bour- 
rasque  (as  the  French  say)  in  the  hold,  but  that  there 
was  just  then  a  tremendous  concussion  upon  the  deck, 
occasioned  by  the  fall  of  the  main-boom,  and  followed 
by  squeaks  and  screams,  of  all  calibres,  from  the  panic- 
stricken  company  at  the  dinner-table.  "Lord  have 
mercy  upon  us  !"  ejaculated  Croak  with  a  deep  groan, 
"  it 's  all  over  with  us — we  are  going  to  the  bottom — I 
like  to  make  the  best  of  every  thing — it 's  my  way,  and 
I  therefore  hope  no  lady  or  gentleman  will  be  in  the 
least  alarmed,  for  I  believe  drowning  is  a  much  less  pain- 
ful death  than  is  generally  supposed." 

Having  run  upon  deck  at  this  juncture  for  the  pur- 
pose of  ascertaining  the  nature  of  the  accident,  which 
he  found  to  be  unattended  with  the  smallest  danger, 
the  writer  cannot  detail  any  more  of  the  conversation 
that  ensued  until  their  arrival  at  Calais. 


MEMNON'S  HEAD.  257 


MEMNON'S  HEAD. 

IT  is  well  known,  that  there  were  two  statues  of  Mem- 
non  :  a  smaller  one,  commonly  called  the  young  Mem- 
non,  whose  bust,  by  the  skill  and  perseverance  of  Bel- 
zoni,  has  been  safely  deposited  in  the  British  Museum  ; 
and  a  larger  and  more  celebrated  one,  from  which, 
when  touched  by  the  rays  of  the  morning  sun,  har- 
monious sounds  were  reported  to  have  issued.  Cam- 
by  ses,  suspecting  that  the  music  proceeded  from  magic, 
ordered  this  statue  to  be  broken  up,  from  the  head  to 
the  middle  of  the  body ;  and  its  prodigious  fragments 
now  lie  buried  amid  the  ruins  of  the  Memnonium. — 
Strabo,  who  states  himself  to  have  been  a  witness  of 
the  miracle,  attributes  it  either  to  the  quality  of  the 
stone,  or  to  some  deception  of  the  priests  ;  while  Pau- 
sanias  suspects  that  some  musical  instrument  was  con- 
cealed within,  whose  strings,  relaxed  by  the  moisture  of 
the  night,  resumed  their  tension  from  the  heat  of  the 
sun,  and  broke  with  a  sonorous  sound.  Ancient  writers 
vary  so  much,  not  only  as  to  the  cause  of  this  mys- 
terious music,  but  even  as  to  the  existence  of  the  fact 
itself,  that  we  should  hardly  know  what  to  believe, 
were  it  not  for  the  authority  of  Strabo,  a  grave  geogra- 
pher, and  an  eye-witness,  who,  without  any  apparent 
wish  to  impose  upon  his  readers,  declares  that  he  stood 
beside  the  statue,  and  heard  the  sounds  which  pro- 
ceeded from  it : — "  Standing,"  he  says,  "  with  Elius 
Gallus,  and  a  party  of  friends,  examining  the  colossus, 
we  heard  a  certain  sound,  without  being  exactly  able  to 


258  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

determine  whether  it  proceeded  from  the  statue  itself, 
or  its  base ;  or  whether  it  had  been  occasioned  by  any 
of  the  assistants,  for  I  would  rather  believe  any  thing 
than  imagine  that  stones,  arranged  in  any  particular 
manner,  could  elicit  similar  noises." 

Pausanias,  in  his  Egyptian  travels,  saw  the  ruins  of 
the  statue,  after  it  had  been  demolished  by  Cambyses, 
when  the  pedestal  of  the  colossus  remained  standing ; 
the  rest  of  the  body,  prostrated  upon  the  ground,  still 
continued,  at  sunrise,  to  emit  its  unaccountable  melody. 
Pliny  and  Tacitus,  without  having  been  eye-witnesses, 
report  the  same  fact ;  and  Lucian  informs  us,  that  De- 
metrius went  to  Egypt,  for  the  sole  purpose  of  seeing 
the  Pyramids,  and  the  statue  of  Memnon,  from  which  a 
voice  always  issued  at  sunrise.  What  the  same  author 
adds,  in  his  Dialogue  of  the  False  Prophet,  appears  to 
be  only  raillery:  "When  (he  writes)  I  went  in  my 
youth  to  Egypt,  I  was  anxious  to  witness  the  miracle^ 
attributed  to  Memnon's  statue,  and  I  heard  this  sound, 
not  like  others,  whq  distinguish  only  a  vain  noise ;  but 
Memnon  himself  uttered  an  oracle,  which  I  could  relate, 
if  I  thought  it  worth  while." — Most  of  the  moderns 
affect  to  discredit  this  relation  altogether,  but  I  cannot 
enroll  myself  among  them  ;  for,  if  properties,  even  more 
marvellous,  can  be  proved  to  exist  in  the  head  of  the 
young  Memnon,  it  would  be  pushing  scepticism  too  far, 
to  deny  that  there  was  any  thing  supernatural  in  the 
larger  and  more  celebrated  statue.  Unless  I  have  been 
grossly  deceived  by  imagination,  I  have  good  grounds 
for  maintaining,  that  the  Head,  now  in  the  Bjritish  Mu- 
seum, is  endued  with  qualities  quite  as  inexplicable  as 
any  that  have  been  attributed  to  its  more  enormous 


MEMNON'S  HEAD.  259 


namesake. — I  had  taken  my  seat  before  it  yesterday 
afternoon,  for  the  purpose  of  drawing  a  sketch,  occa- 
sionally pursuing  my  work,  and  occasionally  lost  in 
reveries  upon  the  vicissitudes  of  fate  this  mighty  monu- 
ment had  experienced,  until  I  became  unconscious  of 
the  lapse  of  time,  and,  just  as  the  shades  of  evening 
began  to  gather  round  the  room,  I  discovered  that 
every  visitor  had  retired,  and  that  I  was  left  quite  alone 
with  the  gigantic  Head  !  There  was  something  awful, 
if  not  alarming,  in  the  first  surprise  excited  by  this  dis- 
covery ;  and  I  must  confess  that  I  felt  a  slight  inclina- 
tion to  quicken  my  steps  to  the  door.  Shame,  however, 
withheld  me ; — and  as  I  made  a  point  of  proving  to 
myself  that  I  was  superior  to  such  childish  impressions, 
I  resumed  my  seat,  and  examined  my  sketch,  with  an 
affectation  of  nonchalance.  On  again  looking  up  to  the 
Bust,  it  appeared  to  me  that  an  air  of  living  animation 
had  spread  over  its  Nubian  features,  which  had  ob- 
viously arranged  themselves  into  a  smile.  Belzoni 
says,  that  it  seemed  to  smile  on  him,  when  he  first  dis- 
covered it  amid  the  ruins ;  and  I  was  endeavouring  to 
persuade  myself  that  I  had  been  deceived  by  the  recol- 
lection of  this  assertion,  when  I  saw  its  broad  granite 
eyelids  slowly  descend  over  its  eyes,  and  again  deliber- 
ately lift  themselves  up,  as  if  the  Giant  were  striving  to 
awaken  himself  from  his  long  sleep ! — I  rubbed  my  own 
eyes,  and,  again  fixing  them,  with  a  sort  of  desperate 
incredulity,  upon  the  figure  before  me,  I  clearly  beheld 
its  lips  moving  in  silence,  as  if  making  faint  efforts  to 
speak, — and,  after  several  ineffectual  endeavours,  a  low 
whispering  voice,  of  melancholy  tone,  but  sweet  withal, 
distinctly  uttered  the  following 


260  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 


IN  Egypt's  centre,  when  the  world  was  young, 
My  statue  soar'd  aloft, — a  man-shaped  tower, 

O'er  hundred-gated  Thebes,  by  Homer  sung, 
And  built  by  Apis'  and  Osiris'  power. 

When  the  sun's  infant  eye  more  brightly  blazed, 
I  mark'd  the  labours  of  unwearied  time  ; 

And  saw,  by  patient  centuries  up-raised, 
Stupendous  temples,  obelisks  sublime. 

Hewn  from  the  rooted  rock,  some  mightier  mound, 
Some  new  colossus,  more  enormous,  springs, 

So  vast,  so  firm,  that,  as  I  gazed  around, 
I  thought  them,  like  myself,  eternal  things. 

Then  did  I  mark  in  sacerdotal  state, 

Psammis  the  king,  whose  alabaster  tomb, 

(Such  the  inscrutable  decrees  of  fate,) 

Now  floats  athwart  the  sea  to  share  my  doom. 

O  Thebes,  (I  cried,)  thou  wonder  of  the  world ! 

Still  shalt  thou  soar,  its  everlasting  boast ; 
When,  lo!  the  Persian  standards  were  unfurl'd, 

And  fierce  Cambyses  led  th'  invading  host. 

Where  from  the  East  a  cloud  of  dust  proceeds, 
A  thousand  banner'd  suns  at  once  appear ; 

Nought  else  was  seen  ; — but  sounds  of  neighing  steeds, 
And  faint  barbaric  music  met  mine  ear. 

Onward  they  march,  and  foremost  I  descried 
A  cuirass'd  Grecian  band,  in  phalanx  dense; 

Around  them  throng'd,  in  Oriental  pride, 
Commingled  tribes — a  wild  magnificence. 


MEMNON'S  HEAD.  261 


Dogs,  cats,  and  monkeys,  in  their  van  they  show, 
Which  Egypt's  children  worship  and  obey; 

They  fear  to  strike  a  sacrilegious  blow, 
And  fall — a  pious,  unresisting  prey. 

Then,  Havoc  leaguing  with  infuriate  Zeal, 
Palaces,  temples,  cities,  are  o'erthrown; 

Apis  is  stabb'd! — Cambyses  thrust  the  steel, 
And  shuddering  Egypt  heaved  a  general  groan. 

The  firm  Memnonium  mock'd  their  feeble  power, 
Flames  round  its  granite  columns  hiss'd  in  vain, — 

The  head  of  Isis  frowning  o'er  each  tower, 
Look'd  down  with  indestructible  disdain. 

Mine  was  a  deeper  and  more  quick  disgrace: — 
Beneath  my  shade  a  wondering  army  flock'd ; 

With  force  combined  they  wrench' d  me  from  my  base, 
And  earth  beneath  the  dread  concussion  rock'd. 

Nile  from  his  banks  receded  with  affright, 

The  startled  Sphinx  long  trembled  at  the  sound ; 

While  from  each  pyramid's  astounded  height, 
The  loosen'd  stones  slid  rattling  to  the  ground. 

I  watch'd,  as  in  the  dust  supine  I  lay, 

The  fall  of  Thebes, — as  I  had  mark'd  its  fame, — 

Till  crumbling  down,  as  ages  roll'd  away, 
Its  site  a  lonely  wilderness  became. 

The  throngs  that  choak'd  its  hundred  gates  of  yore, 
Its  fleets,  its  armies,  were  no  longer  seen ; 

Its  priesthood's  pomp — its  Pharaohs  were  no  more — 
All — all  were  gone — as  if  they  ne'er  had  been. 

Deep  was  the  silence  now,  unless  some  vast 
And  time-worn  fragment  thunder' d  to  its  base ; 


262  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

Whose  sullen  echoes,  o'er  the  desert  cast, 
Died  in  the  distant  solitudes  of  space : 

Or  haply,  in  the  palaces  of  kings, 

Some  stray  jackal  sate  howling  on  the  throne ; 
Or,  on  the  temple's  holiest  altar,  springs 

Some  gaunt  hyaena,  laughing  all  alone. 

Nature  o'erwhelms  the  relics  left  by  time  ; 

By  slow  degrees  entombing  all  the  land, 
She  buries  every  monument  sublime, 

Beneath  a  mighty  winding-sheet  of  sand. 

Yain  is  each  monarch's  unremitting  pains, 
"Who  in  the  rock  his  place  of  burial  delves ; 

Behold !  their  proudest  palaces  and  fanes 
Are  subterraneous  sepulchres  themselves. 

Twenty-three  centuries  unmov'd  I  lay, 
And  saw  the  tide  of  sand  around  me  rise  ; 

Quickly  it  threaten' d  to  engulf  its  prey, 
And  close  in  everlasting  night  mine  eyes. 

Snatch'd  in  this  crisis  from  my  yawning  grave, 
Belzoni  roll'd  me  to  the  banks  of  Nile, 

And  slowly  heaving  o'er  the  western  wave, 
This  massy  fragment  reach'd  th'  imperial  isle. 

In  London  now  with  face  erect  I  gaze 

On  England's  pallid  sons,  whose  eyes  upcast 

View  my  colossal  features  with  amaze, 
And  deeply  ponder  on  my  glories  past 

But  who  my  future  destiny  shall  guess  ? 

Saint  Paul's  may  lie — like  Memnon's  temple — low  ; 
London,  like  Thebes,  may  be  a  wilderness ; 

And  Thames,  like  Nile,  through  silent  ruins  flow. 


WOMEN    VINDICATED.  263 

Then  haply  may  my  travels  be  renew'd :  — 
Some  Transatlantic  hand  may  break  my  rest, 

And  bear  me  from  Augusta's  solitude, 
To  some  new  seat  of  empire  in  the  West. 

Mortal ! — since  human  grandeur  ends  in  dust, 
And  proudest  piles  must  crumble  to  decay, 

Build  up  the  tower  of  thy  final  trust 

In  those  blest  realms — where  nought  shall  pass  away ! 


WOMEN  VINDICATED. 

"  The  treasures  of  the  deep  are  not  so  precious 
As  the  concealed  comforts  of  a  man 
Lock'd  up  in  woman's  love." 

MIDDLE-TON. 

IF  it  be  true  that  the  principal  source  of  laughter  is  the 
exultation  occasioned  by  a  sense  of  our  own  superiority 
over  others,  we  need  not  wonder  that  nations  and  in- 
dividuals have  in  all  ages  been  anxious  to  keep  up  the 
materials  of  risibility,  by  supplying  themselves  with  per- 
petual butts,  collective  and  single.  Athens  had  not  only 
her  Boeotia,  as  we  have  our  Yorkshire,  for  the  supply 
of  clowns,  but  her  pedant  to  stand  in  the  convenient 
place  of  our  Irishman,  and  become  responsible  for  all 
the  bulls  and  blunders  which  Hierocles  or  his  successors 
might  think  fit  to  father  upon  him  ;  while  no  Symposi- 
arch  was  held  to  have  done  his  duty  in  the  arrangement 
of  a  convivial  entertainment,  unless  he  had  provided  an 
established  jester,  just  as  it  is  deemed  indispensable  to 
invite  a  professed  wag  and  punster  to  any  party  of  the 
present  day  that  is  meant  to  be  particularly  jocund  and 


264  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

hilarious.  The  motley-coloured  fools  of  our  royal  and 
noble  establishments,  as  well  as  the  dramatic  clowns, 
which  were  once  essential  to  every  play,  have  indeed 
disappeared ;  but  their  place  has  been  supplied  by 
amateurs  ;  and  the  Court,  theatre,  and  even  our  House 
of  Commons,  have  each  their  regular  buffoons,  although 
the  office  and  name  have  been  ostensibly  suppressed. 
Modern  refinement  may  have  introduced  some  little 
change  in  the  process ;  we  may  laugh  more  often  with 
the  individual  at  others,  than  with  others  at  the  indi- 
vidual ;  but  still  the  object  is  the  same — the  pleasant 
gratification  of  our  egotism,  and  the  exaltation  of  our- 
selves by  making  others  appear  ridiculous. 

There  are  two  whole  classes  of  society  who  have 
done  such  special  service  to  the  utterers  of  bon-mots  and 
composers  of  epigrams,  that  amid  a  dozen  standing 
jokes,  either  of  Joe  Miller  or  his  successors,  at  least  three- 
fourths  will  be  found  to  be  directed  against  authors  and 
women.  Unfortunately  for  the  modern  race  of  wags, 
both  these  established  and  abundant  sources,  which  pro- 
mised to  afford  such  an  inexhaustible  supply  of  small 
wit,  have  now  become  utterly  dry  and  unavailable,  for 
few  jokes  can  be  good  which  involve  a  contradiction  in 
terms  of  a  manifest  untruth.  As  no  point  would  redeem 
an  epigram  which  tended  to  prove  Aristides  a  knave, 
Lucretia  a  wanton,  or  Washington  a  poltroon,  so  \\v 
can  no  longer  tolerate  bald  and  hackneyed  j<-st.s  upon 
the  poverty  of  authors  and  Grub-street  garreteers,  when 
it  is  notorious  that  any  man  who  can  write  decently  is 
sure  of  a  munificent  remuneration ;  while  some  have 
realized  fortunes  by  their  pen  unprecedented  in  the 
literature  of  any  other  age  or  nation.  Still  less  can  we 


WOMEN    VINDICATED.  265 

endure  those  trite  and  flippant  attacks  upon  women, 
which  have  afforded  such  a  poor  pleasure  to  the  profli- 
gates and  sorry  ribalds  of  more  licentious  ages ;  for  if 
our  females  have  not  yet  attained  that  high  and  equal 
station  in  society  to  which  they  are  assuredly  destined, 
they  have  so  far  found  their  rank  and  influence,  and 
established  their  capacity  for  the  very  highest  efforts  of 
intellect,  that  any  attempt  to  revive  the  defunct  jokes 
upon  their  inferiority  would  be  reckoned,  in  every  en- 
lightened company,  an  evidence  of  the  supremest  bad 
taste,  or  of  the  most  egregious  ignorance. 

With  this  cherished  notion,  so  fertile  in  supplying 
materials  to  our  wittols,  has  perished  the  applicability 
of  all  these  subsidiary  jokes  upon  their  frivolity,  vanity, 
lovo  of  dress,  and  loquaciousness,  which  have  afforded 
subjects  to  satirists  and  jesters  from  the  literary  days  of 
ancient  Athens  and  Rome  down  to  the  present  hour. 
If  their  love  of  finery  and  garrulity  ever  exceeded  the 
same  propensities  in  men,  it  was  at  least  a  deviation 
from  the  ordinary  laws  of  nature ;  for  it  is  remarkable 
that  in  the  feathered  and  animal  kingdom,  the  gaudiest 
colours  and  loudest  tongues  are  invariably  bestowed 
upon  the  male.  The  peacock  and  the  gentleman  phea- 
sant have  all  the  fine  clothes  and  proud  strutting  to 
themselves ;  and  if  we  may  draw  any  further  analogy 
from  a  class  of  creation  which  we  so  much  resemble  in 
our  organization,  that  man  has  been  designated  a  "  fea- 
therless  biped,"  it  is  worthy  of  observation  that  the  hen 
bird  invariably  sits  silently  at  home  attending  to  her 
household  duties,  while  the  male  is  dandy fying  his 
plumage,  and  chattering,  crowing,  and  chirping  all  day 
long,  So  low  does  this  rule  extend  in  the  scale  of 
12 


266  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

existence,  that  the  shrill  incessant  cry  which  salutes  us 
from  the  earth,  like  that  which  twitters  from  the  air, 
comes  from  the  male  grasshopper  only.  This  fact  was 
known  to  the  ancients,  but  instead  of  its  leading  them 
to  distrust,  from  the  analogy  that  runs  through  nature's 
works,  the  superior  loquacity  imputed  to  women,  it 
furnishes  Xenarchus,  the  comic  writer,  with  an  addi- 
tional jest  at  their  expense,  by  enabling  him  to  exclaim, 
"How  happy  are  the  grasshoppers  in  having  dumb 
wives !" 

What  nature  never  intended,  however,  art  may  un- 
questionably produce ;  and  at  a  time  when  we  educated 
our  females  to  become  puppets,  dolls,  and  playthings, 
there  can  be  little  wonder  that  the  result  corresponded 
with  the  intention.  To  keep  any  particular  class  in 
ignorance,  as  an  excuse  for  continuing  them  in  bondage, 
is  a  very  old  expedient  of  human  policy.  It  pleases  the 
Turks  to  have  slaves  in  their  seraglios  instead  of  wives, 
and  they  therefore  begin  with  declaring  that  women 
have  no  souls, — an  assertion  which  they  do  their  best  to 
confirm  by  their  mode  of  treatment;  but  the  practice, 
like  every  other  violation  of  nature,  entails  its  own 
abundant  punishment,  sin£e  it  compels  them  to  exchange 
the  delights  of  female  society  for  the  solitary  joys  of 
chewing  opium  and  smoking  tobacco.  For  some  cen- 
turies the  Europeans,  as  an  excuse  for  that  truly  infernal 
traffic — the  slave-trade,  thought  fit  to  pronounce  that 
the  blacks  were  naturally  an  inferior  race,  incapable  of 
any  higher  destiny.  But  lo !  we  have  not  only  woolly- 
headed  authors,  who  ably  vindicate  their  own  cause, 
but  sable  high-titled  emperors,  who,  wearing  powder 
and  pomatum,  crowns,  sceptres,  and  ermine,  sacrifice 


WOMEN    VINDICATED.  267 

their  subjects  in  war,  or  oppress  them  in  peace,  with  as 
much  ability  as  the  most  civilized  and  legitimate  mem- 
bers of  the  Holy  Alliance  ;  while  there  are  black  Dukes 
of  Lemonade,  Earls  Tamarind,  and  Counts  Malmsey, 
who  pass  their  lives  at  St.  Domingo  in  as  much  vice 
and  idleness  as  if  they  formed  a  portion  of  the  oldest 
aristocracy  in  Europe. 

It  was  easy  for  the  artist  who  had  a  sign  to  paint, 
to  represent  the  man  lording  it  over  the  lion ;  but,  as 
the  beast  justly  observes  in  the  fable,  u  If  lions  were  the 
painters,  the  case  might  be  reversed."  Men  who  have 
for  many  ages  been  the  writers,  have  taken  good  care 
to  assert  their  superiority  by  every  possible  species  of 
attack  and  ridicule  levelled  against  the  women  ;  and  if 
the  latter,  now  that  they  are  fairly  competing  the  palm 
of  authorship  with  their  male  rivals,  have  nobly  ab- 
stained from  every  attempt  at  retaliation,  what  a  proof 
does  it  afford  of  their  superior  good  taste  and  generosity ! 
What  so  easy  as  to  launch  the  light  shafts  of  their 
raillery  against  our  boobies,  chatter-boxes,  and  dandies  ? 
What  so  natural  as  that  they  should  level  their  caustic 
satire  against  our  drunkards,  gamesters,  and  profligates ; 
or  more  especially,  that  they  should  stigmatize  and  ex- 
pose our  sneering  bachelors,  who  have  themselves 
created  that  very  class  of  old  maids  which  they  pelt 
with  heartless  reproaches  and  pitiful  ribaldry  ?  But  no, 
our  female  writers  have  disdained  the  proffered  triumph, 
as  if  determined  to  prove  the  superiority  of  their  hearts 
at  the  same  moment  that  they  were  establishing  the 
equality  of  their  heads.  If  any  one  feel  disposed  to 
doubt  their  capacity  for  achieving  this  victory,  let  him 
recollect  that  it  may  be  said  of  woman,  as  was  recorded 


268  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

of  Goldsmith,  "nil  fere  tetiyit  quod  non  ornavit ;" — that 
"  from  grave  to  gay,  from  lively  to  severe,"  they  have 
left  imperishable  evidences  of  their  intellectual  power ; 
that  in  the  light  graces  of  the  epistolary  style  they  are 
confessedly  our  superiors ;  that  the  most  impassioned 
writer  of  lyrical  poetry,  one  of  the  most  learned  classical 
commentators,  and  one  of  the  profoundest  and  most 
original  thinkers  of  modern  times,  *  have  all  been  women. 
Malherbe  says  in  his  Letters,  that  the  Creator  may 
have  repented  having  formed  man,  but  that  he  had  no 
reason  to  repent  having  made  woman :  most  people  of 
sound  heads  and  good  hearts  (and  they  generally  go 
together,  since  virtue  is  only  practical  wisdom,)  will 
unite  in  opinion  with  Malherbe ;  and  yet  how  glibly 
will  scribblers,  who  must  know  the  falsehood  of  their 
accusations,  fall  into  this  vulgar  error  of  pouring  forth 
their  stale  flippancies  against  the  sex.  There  is  probably 
more  male  impertinence  of  this  sort  in  print  than  was 
ever  uttered  by  the  whole  of  womankind  since  the 
transgression  of  Eve.  In  a  former  article  upon  "  The 
Satirists  of  Women,"  the  writer  has  endeavoured  to  ex- 
pose the  miserable  motives  by  which  they  have  been 
generally  influenced  in  thus  venting  their  disappoint- 
ment and  malignity ;  and  where  such  direct  personal 
feelings  cannot  be  traced,  we  may  perhaps  be  over- 
charitable  in  assigning  their  slanders  to  ignorance,  or  an 
overweening  conceit  of  their  own  epigrammatic  smart- 
ness. Nothing  but  the  latter  can  have  seduced  such  a 
man  as  Voltaire  into  the  following  lines,  when  speaking 
of  women, — 

*  Madame  de  Stael. 


WOMEN    VINDICATED.  269 


-"  Quelques  feintes  caresses, 


Quelques  propos  sur  le  jeu,  sur  le  terns, 
Sur  un  sermon,  sur  le  prix  des  rubans, 
Ont  Spuise  leurs  ames  exce'de'es ; 
Elles  chan talent  deja  faute  d'ide"es." 

Much  may  be  forgiven  a  man  whom  we  know  to 
be  capable  of  better  things,  who  perhaps  despises  the 
vulgar  taste  to  which  he  is  thus  pandering ;  but  who 
shall  absolve  the  pert  brainless  smatterers,  "  who  have 
but  one  idea,  and  that  a  wrong  one ;"  who  have  but 
one  little  stock  of  cut  and  dried  jokes  of  the  same  anti- 
feminine  tendency,  which  they  vent,  usque  ad  nauseam, 
in  the  form  of  rebus,  charade,  epigram,  and  epitaph  ? 
A  shallow  coxcomb  of  this  sort  will  complacently  ask 
you,  "  What  is  the  difference  between  a  woman  and  her 
glass  ?"  in  order  that  he  may  anticipate  you  by  exclaim- 
ing with  an  assinine  grin — "  Because  one  speaks  with- 
out reflecting,  and  the  other  reflects  without  speaking." 
Following  up  the  same  idea,  he  will  inquire  whether 
you  know  how  to  make  the  women  run  after  you,  and 
will  eagerly  reply — "  By  running  away  with  their  look- 
ing-glasses." He  will  tell  you  that  Voltaire  says  "  ideas 
are  like  beards — men  only  get  them  as  they  grow  up, 
and  women  never  have  any,"  of  which  only  the  former 
clause  of  the  sentence  is  Voltaire's,  that  which  has  re- 
ference to  women  being  the  addition  of  some  subsequent 
zany.  At  the  bare  mention  of  the  sign  of  the  Good 
Woman  in  Norton  Falgate  he  will  chuckle  with  delight ; 
Chaucer's  and  Prior's  objectionable  tales  he  will  quote 
with  egregious  glee ;  upon  the  subject  of  marriage  he  is 
ready  with  some  half  dozen  of  the  established  bons-mots, 


270  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 


and  he  is  provided  with  about  the  same  quantity  of 
epitaphs  upon  wives — from 

"  Cy  gist  ma  femme ;  ah !    qu'elle  est  hien 
Pour  son  repos,  et  pour  le  mien," 

which  Boileau  stupidly  pronounced  to  be  the  best  epi- 
grammatic epitaph  upon  record,  to  the  more  recent 

"  Here  lies  my  dear  wife,  a  sad  vixen  and  shrew ; 
If  I  said  I  regretted  her,  I  should  lie  too." 

And  his  facetious  dullness  will  be  wound  up  with  a  few 
hard  hits  at  widows,  from  the  dame  of  Ephesus  to  the 
last  new  subject  of  scandal ;  though  he  will  prudently 
say  nothing  of  those  upon  the  coast  of  Malabar,  who  for 
many  ages  have  continued  to  afford  instances  of  conju- 
gal devotion,  to  which  no  solitary  parallel  can  be  pro- 
duced upon  the  part  of  a  husband,  throughout  the  whole 
wide  extent  of  time  and  space. 

His  babble,  in  short,  will  be  a  faithful  echo  of  the 
old  jest-books,  none  of  which  can  be  opened  without 
our  stumbling  upon  a  hundred  of  such  stale  flippancies. 
Let  us  consult  the  Virgilian  lots,  for  instance,  of  the 
"  Musarum  Delicia?,"  by  opening  it  hap-hazard,  and  we 
encounter  the  following  venerable  joke : 

"  "Women  are  books,  and  men  the  readers  be, 
In  whom  ofttimes  they  great  errata  see ; 
Here  sometimes  we've  a  blot,  there  we  espy 
A  leaf  misplaced,  at  least  a  line  awry : 
If  they  are  books,  I  wish  that  my  wife  were 
An  Almanack,  to  change  her  every  year." 


WOMEN    VINDICATED.  27 1 

Another  dip,  and  we  turn  up  the  following  dull  invec- 
tive: 

"  Commit  the  ship  unto  the  wind, 
But  not  thy  faith  to  woman-kind ; 
There  is  more  safety  in  a  wave, 
Than  in  the  faith  that  women  have ; 
No  woman's  good ; — if  chance  it  fall 
Some  one  be  good  amongst  them  all, 
Some  strange  intent  the  Destinies  had, 
To  make  a  good  thing  of  a  bad." 

The  next  venture  exhibits  some  quibbling,  too  stupid 
to  transcribe,  upon  the  etymology  of  the  word  woman, 
which  is  made  synonymous  with  woe-to-man ;  while 
we  are  sapiently  informed  that  a  very  little  alteration 
would  convert  Eve  into  evil  and  devil.  Once  more  we 
open  upon  the  old  falsehood  of  female  inconstancy  : 

"A  woman's  love  is  like  a  Syrian  flower, 
That  buds,  and  spreads,  and  withers  in  an  hour." 

And  shortly  after  we  begin  with  the  fertile  subject  of 
marriage : 

"  Marriage,  as  old  men  note,  hath  liken'd  been 

Unto  a  public  fast,  or  common  rout. 
Where  those  that  are  without  would  fain  get  in, 
And  those  that  are  within  would  fain  get  out." 

Even  in  an  epitaph  upon  a  young  woman,  which 
was  meant  to  be  encomiastic,  the  writer  cannot  forbear 
a  misplaced  taunt  upon  the  sex  : 

"  The  body  which  within  this  earth  is  laid, 
Twice  six  weeks  knew  a  wife,  a  saint,  a  maid ; 


272  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

Fair  maid,  chaste  wife,  pure  saint, — yet  'tis  not  strange — 
She  was  a  woman,  therefore  pleased  to  change  : 
And  now  she's  dead,  some  woman  doth  remain, 
For  still  she  hopes  once  to  be  changed  again." 

In  justice  to  the  author  we  shall  conclude  with  the 
following,  both  because  it  is  in  a  better  style  as  well  as 
taste : 

ON   HUSBAND   AND   WIFE. 

"To  these,  whom  Death  again  did  wed, 
The  grave's  the  second  marriage-bed ; 
For  though  the  hand  of  Fate  could  force 
'Twixt  soul  and  body  a  divorce, 
It  could  not  sever  man  and  wife, 
Because  they  both  lived  but  one  life 
Peace,  good  reader !  do  not  weep  ; 
Peace,  the  lovers  are  asleep: 
They,  sweet  turtles,  folded  lie 
In  the  last  knot  that  love  could  tie : 
Let  them  sleep,  let  them  sleep  on, 
Till  this  stormy  night  be  gone, 
And  the  eternal  morrow  dawn  : 
Then  the  curtain  will  be  drawn, 
And  they  waken  with  that  light 
Whose  day  shall  never  sleep  in  night." 

And  now,  before  dismissing  the  gentle  reader,  we 
not  only  caution  him  against  the  sorry  and  stale  imper- 
tinences levelled  at  a  sex,  which,  in  these  days  of  sordid 
or  ambitious  scrambling  among  men,  remains  the  re- 
deeming bright  spot  of  humanity,  and  almost  the  exclu- 
sive depository  of  the  virtues ;  but  we  do  in  all  sincerity 
of  friendly  purpose  admonish  him  to  perpend  our  motto 
from  Middleton  ;  and  if  he  be  a  bachelor,  to  lose  no 


PORTRAIT    OF    A    SEPTUAGENARY.  273 

time  in  becoming  a  candidate  for  those  ineffable  com- 
forts "  locked  up  in  woman's  love."  To  guide  him  in 
this  pious  undertaking,  we  will  transcribe  for  him  Sir 
John  Mennis's  instructions 


HOW   TO   CHOOSE   A   WIFE. 

:*  Good  Sir,  if  you'll  show  the  best  of  your  skill 

To  pick  a  virtuous  creature, 
Then  pick  such  a  wife,  as  you  love  a  life, 

Of  a  comely  grace  and  feature. 
The  noblest  part  let  it  be  her  heart, 

Without  deceit  or  cunning ; 
With  a  nimble  wit,  and  all  things  fit, 

With  a  tongue  that's  never  running : 
The  hair  of  her  head  it  must  not  be  red, 

But  fair  and  brown  as  a  berry ; 
Her  forehead  high,  with  a  crystal  eye, 

Her  lips  as  red  as  a_  cherry." 


PORTRAIT  OF  A  SEPTUAGENARY; 

BY    HIMSELF.* 

*'  I  will  conduct  you  to  a  hill-side,  laborious  indeed  at  the  first  ascent,  but 
else  so  smooth,  so  green,  so  full  of  goodly  prospects  and  melodious 
sounds,  that  the  harp  of  Orpheus  was  not  half  so  charming. 

AFTER  all  the  critical  denunciations  against  the  unfor- 
tunate wight,  who  suffered  the  smallest  inkling  of  him- 
self or  his  affairs  to  transpire  in  his  writings ; — after  the 

*  Now  no  longer  in  existence. 
12* 


274  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

pretty  general  confinement  of  Autobiography  to  play- 
ers, courtesans,  and  adventurers; — after  the  long  ab- 
sorption of  individuality  in  the  royal  and  literary  plural 
we, — the  age  has  at  last  adopted  the  right  legitimate 
Spanish  formula  of  "I  the  King:"  our  writers,  from 
Lord  Byron  downwards,  have  become  their  own  heroes, 
either  direct  or  allegorized  ;  and  if  any  one  will  cast  his 
eye  over  the  columns  of  our  periodical  literature,  he  will 
find  one  half  of  the  articles  to  be  personal  narratives,  or 
autobiography  in  some  of  its  innumerable  ramifica- 
tions. If  self-preservation  be  the  first  law  of  nature, 
self-description  seems  now  to  be  the  second,  and  we 
may  fairly  pronounce  the  present  to  be  the  golden  age 
of  Egotism.  I,  for  one,  do  not  complain  of  this,  pro- 
vided it  be  done  with  talent ;  for  a  long  familiarity  with 
literature  has  produced  its  usual  effects  upon  me,  mak- 
ing me  more  solicitous  as  to  the  manner  than  the  mat- 
ter ;  and  as  a  good  horse  cannot  be  of  a  bad  colour,  so  I 
hold  that  an  able  writer  can  hardly  have  a  bad  subject. 
We  can  scarcely  expect  so  much  talent  and  we  need 
hardly  require  so  much  frankness,  as  characterized  the 
Confessions  of  Rousseau  ;  for  no  paper  could  fail  to  be 
interesting  if  it  gave  a  faithful  transcript  of  the  author's 
mind.  We  have  enough  of  dates  and  registers,  and 
the  freaks  of  fortune,  and  all  the  changes  and  ills  that 
flesh  is  heir  to  !  but  it  appears  that  we  are  very  scan- 
tily supplied  with  histories  of  mind.  Mr.  Coleridge,  in- 
deed, has  given  to  us  "  a  psychological  curiosity  ;"  but 
as  it  has  reference  only  to  one  eventful  night,  it  serves  to 
stimulate  rather  than  allay  our  appetite  for  similar  re- 
velations. Some  of  our  youngest  writers,  who  can  have 
experienced  little  vicissitude  of  mental  or  bodily  estate, 


PORTRAIT    OF    A    SEPTUAGENARY.  275 

indulge  in  the  most  trivial  detail  of  personal  matter : — 
may  not  I  then,  a  not  unobservant  veteran,  record  the 
life  of  my  mind  (if  I  may  so  express  myself)  with  as 
much  privilege  and  immunity  as  is  conceded  to  these 
chroniclers  of  external  and  physical  existence  ?  "  That 
which  hath  made  them  drunk  hath  made  me  bold ;" 
and  thus  inspired,  I  shall  proceed  to  give  a  sketch  of 
the  progress  of  my  mind,  so  far  as  I  have  myself  been 
enabled  to  pronounce  judgment  upon  it,  suppressing 
some  things,  but  mis-stating  none ;  and  occasionally  in- 
dulging in  those  diffusive  and  desultory  wanderings 
which  my  own  experience  has  proved  to  be  almost  in- 
evitable ingredients  in  the  character  of  a  Septuagenary. 
Few  men  perhaps  are  better  qualified  for  this  task  ; 
for,  owing  to  a  defective  memory,  I  have,  from  a  very 
early  age,  been  in  the  habit  of  keeping  a  journal,  not  of 
facts  only,  but  of  feelings,  thoughts  and  impressions ; 
and  thus  I  may  be  said  never  to  have  forgotten  any- 
thing, or,  if  I  had  forgotten  it,  always  to  have  pos- 
sessed the  power  of  recovering  what  I  had  lost,  by  a 
reference  to  my  Diary.  Mysterious  operation ! — Cer- 
tain hieroglyphics  are  marked  upon  a  paper  with  a 
black  liquid,  which,  after  a  lapse  of  years,  shall  have 
the  power  of  penetrating  through  the  eyes  into  the 
sensorium,  and  of  calling  up  from  their  sleep  recollec- 
tions which,  but  for  this  summons,  would  have  slum- 
bered for  ever.  Sometimes  these  reminiscences  have 
brought  up  with  them  roots  and  off-shoots,  and  minute 
appendages  of  time,  place,  and  circumstances,  of  which 
no  record  existed  on  paper,  but  which,  unknown  to 
myself,  had  lain  buried  in  the  tenacious  soil  of  even  an 
infirm  memory,  quietly  awaiting  the  uprising  of  that 


2*76  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

master-thought  with  whose  fibres  they  were  inter- 
twined. What  an  infinite  series  of  such  thoughts  and 
images  must  be  stored  up  in  the  vast  repertory  of  me- 
mory ;  all,  too,  so  admirably  classed,  and  ticketed,  and 
arranged,  that  even  after  the  accumulation  of  years, 
each  is  capable  of  being  called  up  from  its  hiding-place 
by  a  simple,  unfelt,  and  instantaneous  act  of  volition  ! 
A  Journal  is  a  valuable  stimulant  to  this  incomprehen- 
sible faculty.  A  basin  of  water  thrown  down  a  pump, 
of  which  the  sucker  is  dry,  places  at  your  disposal  the 
inexhaustible  fountains  of  the  earth,  and  a  similar  out- 
pouring of  the  past  may  frequently  be  procured^  by  the 
expansion  which  an  old  Diary  gives  to  the  memory. 

Locke  is  considered  as  having  set  at  rest  the  ques- 
tion of  innate  ideas ;  but  not  with  me.  I  was  never 
convinced  by  his  arguments,  nor  pleased  with  his  cum- 
brous, rambling,  and  illogical  style ;  and  besides,  I  had, 
or  fancied  that  I  had,  proofs  in  my  own  experience 
which  upset  all  his  reasoning ;  for  fancies,  and  imagina- 
tions, and  dreams,  have  presented  to  me  combinations 
which  could  never  have  arisen  from  any  external  ope- 
rations in  this  world,  and  appeared  to  justify  strong 
presumptions  of  an  ante-natal  existence.  They  were 
the  twilight  of  a  sun  that  had  set — the  flutterings  of  a 
bird  not  yet  reconciled  to  his  new  cage — the  convul- 
sions of  a  spirit  in  the  crisis  of  transmutation — the 
yearnings  of  a  soul  looking  back  to  the  race  it  had  run, 
before  it  fully  entered  upon  its  new  career.  There  is 
nothing  preposterous  in  supposing  that  the  soul  of  man 
is  too  precious  a  relic  to  be  inclosed  in  only  one  eva- 
nescent shrine ;  while  it  is  hardly  consistent  with  rea- 
son or  justice  to  suppose  that  its  eternal  doom,  whether 


PORTRAIT    OF    A    SEPTUAGENARY.  277 

for  good  or  ill,  can  be  merited  by  that  fleeting  proba- 
tion to  which  one  human  life  is  limited  !  What !  are 
we  to  march  out  of  the  invisible  into  the  visible  world, 
play  our  short  and  sorry  pranks,  and  then  return  into 
invisibility,  like  the  figures  of  a  phantasmagoria,  which 
start  from  the  darkness  to  grin,  and  mock  and  mow, 
and  "  squeak  and  gibber,"  and  then  shrink  up  again 
into  darkness  ?  Like  the  performers  in  a  grand  the- 
atric procession,  we  may  come  in  at  one  door,  and 
having  the  cradle  and  the  coffin  for  our  O.  P.  and 
P.  S.,  strut  across  the  stage  of  life  in  all  the  dignity  of 
tinsel  trappings,  and  so  out  at  the  other;  but  who 
shall  assure  us,  that,  like  the  same  performers,  we  may 
not  occasionally  run  round  behind  the  scenes  of  the 
graves,  return  to  the  first  entrance,  and  repeat  our  pro- 
cession ? — Ay,  who  shall  warrant  us  against  these  new 
incarnations  of  the  old  spirit,  like  the  Avatars  of  the 
Hindoo  god,  or  the  Platonic  metempsychosis — not 
however  into  animal  forms,  but  a  new  human  one — 
another  and  the  same  ?  I  have  never  been  wholly  sat- 
isfied with  the  great  object  of  most  men's  speculation 
— the  looking  forward  and  conjecturing  what  we  are  to 
be  in  a  future  world  :  but  have  been  not  less  anxious 
to  know  what  we  have  been  in  the  past  one.  I  have 
invoked  all  the  gods — "  quibus  imperium  est  ani- 
marum,  umbrseque  silentes,  et  Chaos  et  Phlegethon,'' 
that  by  their  auspices  I  might  be  enabled  "pandere 
res  alta  terra  et  caligine  mersas  ;"  imploring  them  to 
draw  up  the  veil  that  I  might  look  backward,  and 
have  revealed  to  me  the  domains,  and  appearances,  and 
modes  of  being,  in  the  great  Ante-natal  Infinite.  Some 
one  has  inscribed  in  the  Catacombs  at  Paris,  "  Rogas 


278  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

ubi  post  obitum  jaceas !  ubi  non  nata  jacent !" — but 
where  is  this  boundless  and  yet  undiscoverable  land — 
this  real  terra  incognita  !  The  earth  has  swallowed  up 
and  decomposed  all  that  has  hitherto  existed  ;  but  what 
encampment  is  vast  enough  to  contain  the  marshalled 
myriads  waiting  to  be  called  into  existence,  for  we  can- 
not boast,  whatever  Ovid  might,  that  "  one  half  of  round 
eternity  is  ours."  The  world  is  probably  young,  just 
starting  on  the  race  of  eternity,  to  which  its  present  ex- 
istence may  bear  the  same  proportion  as  a  grain  of 
sand  to  itself;  and  the  number  of  human  beings  hither- 
to born  will,  of  course,  be  in  the  same  ratio  to  those 
not  yet  animated.  Psha !  it  is  a  vain  and  fantastical 
speculation  ;  our  faculties  are  limited,  and  we  may  lose 
the  enjoyment  of  what  is  proffered  by  straining  too 
ardently  after  what  is  withheld,  like  the  dog  who 
snatched  at  a  reflection  in  the  water  and  lost  his  din- 
ner, or  the  wiseacre  who  wasted  a  summer  morning  in 
strenuous  endeavours  to  leap  beyond  his  shadow.  Yes, 
such  researches,  by  raising  our  eyes  from  the  realities 
of  life,  may  betray  us  into  danger.  Thales,  the  Mile- 
sian, while  gazing  at  the  moon,  fell  into  a  pond :  "  Had 
you  looked  into  the  water,"  said  a  countryman  to  him, 
"  you  might  have  seen  the  moon,  but  by  gazing  on  the 
moon  you  could  never  have  seen  the  pond." 

I  told  you  I  should  be  desultory  and  discursive — 
my  signature  implies  it ;  but  I  proceed  to  my  purpose. 
I  shall  only  give  a  very  loose  sketch  or  summary  of  the 
whole,  which,  for  the  sake  of  condensation,  I  shall 
throw  into  large  masses  of  time,  and  in  conformity  to 
this  arrangement  I  shall  briefly  sum  up. 


PORTRAIT    OF    A    SEPTUAGENARY.  279 


THE    FIRST    TWENTY    YEARS    OF    MY    LIFE. 

How  sweet  to  contemplate  those  beautiful  frames  in 
which  an  immortal  soul  is  enshrined,  before  it  is  agi- 
tated by  the  passions,  or  debased  by  crime !  What  a 
compound  of  the  angelic  and  human  nature !  how 
lovely  as  an  object,  how  interesting  as  a  mysterious 
problem  !  The  appeal  of  infant  innocence  is  irresisti- 
ble :  infants  are  mighty  in  their  very  helplessness. — 
What  must  they  be  then,  when,  to  all  these  touching 
sympathies,  is  added  the  powerful  instinct  of  parental 
affection?  I  call  it  instinct  advisedly,  for  it  will  be 
found  that  nature  is  an  economist,  even  of  the  affections, 
and  proportions  them  pretty  accurately  to  the  wants  of 
the  object.  Hence  it  is  strongest  in  the  human  subject; 
for  no  animal  is  born  in  so  helpless  a  state,  or  so  long 
requires  assistance.  It  is  more  powerful  in  the  mother, 
because  the  child  is  more  dependant  upon  her  minister- 
ing offices ;  and  in  her  it  is  generally  most  intense  to- 
wards the  deformed  in  body  or  mind,  the  ricketty  or 
the  idiotic ; — not  from  any  perverse  or  deficient  judg- 
ment, but  from  a  watchful  impulse  of  nature  directing 
her  tenderness  in  that  channel  where  it  is  the  most  need- 
ed. Preservation  of  the  species  seems  to  be  the  per- 
vading principle  of  the  world ;  and  it  is  wonderful  to 
reflect  how  actively  and  perpetually  this  agency  is  at 
work  without  our  being  conscious  of  its  presence. 
Birds  and  beasts,  when  they  have  answered  the  great 
purpose  of  temporary  protection,  lose  this  instinct,  pre- 
viously so  acute ;  they  even  cease  to  have  the  smallest 
recognition  of  their  offspring,  and  though  the  pride  of 


280  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

man  revolts  from-  any  analogies  drawn  from  the  animal 
kingdom,  I  believe  that  in  many  of  their  leading  ten- 
dencies there  is  a  marvellous  accordance  between  them. 
Thus  I  apprehend  that  parental  affection  progressively 
weakens  as  it  ceases  to  be  required;  and  though  a 
sense  of  benefits  conferred  or  received  may  substitute  a 
lively  sentiment  or  principle  of  friendship,  it  is  no  long- 
er an  instinct  about  the  preservation  of  which  nature  is 
solicitous.  Were  our  feelings  upon  these  points  govern- 
ed by  justice  or  a  balance  of  benefits,  they  would  be 
much  more  powerful  towards  our  parents  than  our  off- 
spring ;  but  the  reverse  is  notoriously  the  case. 

I  am  happy  to  say  that  I  was  rather  a  stupid  boy, 
and  in  defiance  of  the  poet's  maxim,  that  "  the  child's 
the  father  of  the  man,"  I  am  prepared  to  maintain  that 
I  ceased  to  be  thus  obtuse  long  before  I  had  any  claim 
to  the  toga  virilis.  Precocity  is  generally  an  indication 
of  disease :  and  it  has  been  very  safely  predicated  of  in- 
fant prodigies  that  they  rarely  grow  up  clever,  because, 
in  fact,  they  rarely  grow  up  at  all.  They  "  o'er-inform 
their  tenement  of  clay;" — the  fire  of  intellect  burns 
faster  than  the  body  can  supply  it  with  aliment,  and  so 
they  spiritualize  and  evaporate.  Mind  and  body  are 
yoked  together  to  pursue  their  mysterious  journey  with 
equal  steps,  nor  can  one  outstrip  the  other  without 
breaking  the  harness  and  endangering  the  whole  ma- 
chine. I  would  rather  that  my  child's  right  shoulder 
should  grow  higher  than  his  left,  than  that  his  mind 
should  get  the  start  of  his  body ;  for  the  former  would 
only  affect  his  symmetry,  the  latter  is  frequently  a  fatal 
symptom.  Were  all  authors  as  ingenious  as  Dr.  John- 
son in  disclaiming  the  juvenile  miracles  of  wit  attribut- 


PORTRAIT    OF    A    SEPTUAGENARY.  281 


ed  to  them,  the  number  of  our  really  precocious  writers, 
who  have  attained  subsequent  celebrity,  would  probably 
be  extremely  limited.  As  to  solitary  instances  of  pre- 
ternatural talent  in  children,  limited  to  one  direction, 
they  do  not  come  within  the  scope  of  my  argument. 
Such  is  that  incomprehensible  faculty  of  arithmetic,  in 
the  celebrated  Calculating  Boy,  who  in  an  instant  can 
solve  problems  which  would  be  an  hour's  puzzle  to 
our  ablest  calculators,  "  with  all  appliances  and  means 
to  boot;"  and  yet  this  urchin  cannot  even  explain  the 
process  by  which  he  performs  the  miracle.  One  would 
imagine  that,  by  some  peculiar  organization  of  his 
brain,  a  ray  of  omniscience  had  shot  athwart  it,  giving 
us  a  single  glimpse  of  its  divine  origin ;  as,  when  the 
clouds  are  opened  by  lightning,  we  appear  to  get  a 
momentary  peep  into  the  glories  of  the  innermost  hea- 
ven. With  such  an  example  of  inexplicable  intuition, 
we  need  not  despair  of  future  striplings,  who,  in  the  in- 
tervals of  peg-top  and  cricket,  will  kindly  spare  a  mo- 
ment for  quadrating  the  circle,  discovering  the  longitude, 
explaining  the  cause  of  polar  attraction,  and  solving 
other  QEdipean  riddles  which  have  puzzled  the  world 
since  its  creation,  while  the  young  sages  shall  be  all 
unconscious  of  the  might  within  them.  Out  of  the 
mouths  of  babes  and  sucklings  may  such  revelations  be 
ordained.  As,  however,  the  loss  of  one  of  our  senses 
generally  quickens  and  strengthens  the  rest,  so  the  pre- 
ternatural growth  and  vigour  of  any  particular  mental 
faculty  commonly  cripples  or  weakens  the  others.  A 
hump-backed  man  is  spindle-shanked,  and  the  Calcula- 
ting Boy,  in  all  directions  but  one,  was  weak-minded  and 
simple.  In  every  thing  "  order  is  heaven's  first  law  ; " 


282  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 


proportion   and  equilibrium   are  the  only  elements  of 
beauty  and  strength. 

Among  the  advantages  of  my  birth  it  was  my  good 
fortune  to  be  member  of  a  large  family,  the  collision  of 
which  is  highly  beneficial  in  rubbing  off  the  little  asper- 
ities and  singularities  that  the  youthful  character  is  apt 
to  throw  out  in  the  petulance  of  its  development.  The 
severe  discipline  and  turmoil  of  school  completes  this 
process,  as  the  lashing  and  roaring  of  the  ocean  assimi- 
lates the  pebbles  upon  its  beach ;  but  I  question  whether, 
in  this  rough  mode  of  polishing,  the  remedy  be  not 
worse  than  the  disease.  What  idle  cant  and  talking 
by  rote  is  it  in  old  men  to  declare,  with  a  grave  shake 
of  the  head  or  theatrical  sigh,  that  their  school-days 
were  the  happiest  of  their  lives. — Away  with  such  non- 
sense !  they  were  no  such  thing.  For  myself  I  can  de- 
clare that  I  look  back  with  unmixed  horror  to  that 
period,  and  that  no  temptations  should  induce  me  to 
live  my  life  over  again,  if  I  were  again  compelled  to 
struggle  through  that  accursed  Slough  of  Despond. 
I  was  never  flogged ;  and  yet  my  mental  sufferings  were 
acute.  Were  I  called  upon  to  specify  them,  I  could 
not  easily  do  it :  they  consisted  rather  of  an  aggregate 
of  petty  annoyances  than  of  any  one  overpowering  evil. 
Of  a  delicate  constitution  and  sensitive  mind,  every 
nerve  and  fibre  seemed  to  be  perpetually  set  on  edge. 
My  senses  and  appetites  were  all  outraged  by  grossness 
and  coarse  viands ;  I  was  maddened  with  noise  and 
hurly-burly;  at  one  time  the  boisterous  mirth  and  prac- 
tical jokes  of  my  schoolfellows  distressed  me ;  at  another, 
I  was  terrified  by  their  cries  and  contortions  as  they  suf- 
fered under  the  rod.  Tough  and  obdurate  minds  soon 


PORTRAIT    OF    A    SEPTUAGENARY.  283 

got  inured  to  all  this,  but  mine  was  of  a  more  tender 
temperament,  nor  could  it  find  any  consolation  in  a 
hoop  or  skipping-rope.  I  hold  it  little  vanity  to  say  that 
"  my  desires  were  dolphin-like,  and  showed  themselves 
above  the  element  they  lived  in."  So  deeply  was  my 
mind  impressed  with  the  laceration  of  my  feelings  at 
this  period,  that  in  after-life  I  never  sent  a  child  to 
school  without  a  thousand  misgivings  and  qualms  of 
conscience ;  and  I  would  rather  have  thrown  a  boy  to 
the  Minotaur  at  once,  than  have  sacrificed  him  to  the 
slow  torment  of  any  public  school,  polluted  by  the  sys- 
tem of  what  is  technically  termed  Fagging — that  is,  com- 
pelling a  youngster  to  crouch  beneath  the  foot  of  some 
malignant  tyrant  of  the  first  or  second  form,  that  he 
may  finally  take  his  revenge,  not  on  his  oppressor,  but 
on  the  next  stripling  over  whom,  as  he  advances  to  se- 
niority, he  is  to  exercise  the  same  wanton  cruelty.  Cow- 
ardly and  debasing  practice !  It  may  fit  boys  for  the 
army,  but  it  can  hardly  fail  to  render  them  not  less  ab- 
ject towards  their  superiors,  than  reckless  and  overbearing 
to  those  beneath  them. 

It  is  humiliating  to  reflect  how  little  is  subsequently 
retained  after  passing  through  this  fiery  ordeal.  At 
least  five  schoolboys  out  of  ten  make  a  point  of  forget- 
ting their  Latin  and  Greek,  which  is  nearly  all  they  can 
acquire  at  a  public  school,  with  as  much  rapidity  as 
possible.  F —  says,  that  such  a  man  is  better  than  one 
who  never  studied  the  classics,  as  an  empty  censer  still 
has  a  grateful  odour  from  the  perfume  it  contained ; 
but  I  suspect  he  would  rather  sit  down  to  one  full  bottle 
of  Port  than  smell  to  a  dozen  empty  claret  bottles, 
whatever  might  have  been  the  fragrance  of  their  bouquet. 


284  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

Person,  who  retained  so  much  that  he  could  afford  to 
boast  of  what  he  had  lost,  was  justified  in  exclaiming  to 
a  chattering  pretender,  "  Sir,  I  have  forgotten  more  than 
you  ever  knew."  But,  after  all,  it  is  better  to  have 
knowledge  to  brag  of  than  ignorance.  "  How  comes 
it,"  said  a  flippant  youngster  to  Dr.  Pan-,  "  that  you  never 
wrote  a  book  ? — suppose  we  write  one  together."  "  In 
that  way,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  we  might  indeed  make  a 
very  thick  one." — "  How  ?" — "  Why,  by  putting  in  all 
that  I  know  and  all  that  you  do  not  know." 

In  due  time  I  exchanged  the  scholastic  form  for  a 
stool  in  a  merchant's  counting-house,  and  found  my 
Latin  of  special  service  in  supplying  the  initials  for 
pounds,  shillings,  and  pence,  with  which  I  headed  the 
columns  of  the  Petty-cash  Book;  while  my  Grecian 
lore  fully  qualified  me  to  institute  a  comparison  between 
the  famous  honey  of  Hybla  and  Hymettus,  and  the  su- 
gar samples  which  were  ranged  on  shelves  over  my 
head.  What  a  revulsion  of  mind  I  experienced  at  being 
suddenly  plunged  from  the  all-commanding  summit  of 
Mount  Pindus  and  the  flowery  vale  of  Haemus,  where 
my  young  fancy  had  held  converse  with  nymphs,  fauns, 
and  dryads,  into  the  murky  day  candle-light  of  a  count- 
ing-house in  the  city,  where  my  aspiring  intellect  was 
to  be  fed  from  the  classic  fountains  of  brokers,  wharfin- 
gers, and  sailors !  Ductile  as  water,  the  mind  at  that 
age  soon  takes  the  form  of  whatever  surrounds  it.  The 
poor  pride  of  excelling,  even  in  this  humble  knowledge, 
rendering  me  assiduous,  I  won  the  confidence  of  my 
employer ;  and,  after  due  probation,  was  promoted  to 
what  is  termed  a  pulpit-desk,  where  I  stood  from  nine 
in  the  morning  till  eight  at  night,  behind  three  enor- 


PORTRAIT    OF    A    SEPTUAGENARY.  285 

mous  books  which  I  was  employed  in  'posting,  and  for 
my  sole  reward  received  the  honorary  appellation  of 
book-keeper.  Greater  men  than  I  have  performed  less 
honourable  drudgery  for  a  rag  of  ribbon  across  the 
breast  or  round  the  knee ;  and  I  only  regret  the  contin- 
uance of  offices  like  mine,  because  in  the  great  improve- 
ment of  mechanical  science  I  think  animal  machines 
may  be  dispensed  with,  and  a  steam-engine  be  advan- 
tageously substituted  for  a  book-keeper.  My  evenings 
were  my  own :  and  as  I  was  never  very  fond  of  the- 
atres, routs,  and  parties,  and  was  constitutionally  tem- 
perate, I  had  still  some  leisure  hours  for  reading,  and 
invariably  carried  a  book  with  me  to  bed  to  keep  me 
awake, — a  practice  which  I  have  since  occasionally 
adopted  for  a  purpose  directly  opposite.  My  range  did 
not  extend  beyond  the  catalogue  of  a  circulating  library, 
but  nothing  came  amiss  to  me ;  my  appetite  was  too 
keen  to  be  discriminative,  and  I  swallowed  trash  with  a 
relish  which  nothing  but  the  raciness  of  youth  and  no- 
velty can  impart,  and  which  I  have  since  found  often 
wanting  when  more  nutritious  and  wholesome  aliments 
were  spread  before  me.  Detecting  some  heraldic  error 
in  the  Gentleman's  Magazine,  I  wrote  a  letter  to  correct 
it :  how  many  times  I  corrected  my  own  correction  I 
cannot  say,  but  I  remember  it  occupied  four  sides  fairly 
written,  and  the  reader,  if  he  be  not  himself  an  occa- 
sional author,  can  hardly  imagine  the  impatience  with 
which  I  waited  for  the  end  of  the  month.  My  hopes 
of  its  being  inserted  were  but  faint,  but  they  were  strong 
enough  to  take  me  to  the  publisher's  early  on  the  first 
day  of  the  month,  where  I  bought  the  number,  went 
up  a  court  to  look  over  the  table  of  contents,  and  found 


286  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

that  my  communication  had  been  inserted.  Few  mo- 
ments of  my  life  have  afforded  me  more  gratification.  My 
countenance  dropped,  however,  when  I  got  home  and 
turned  to  the  article,  for  at  the  first  blush  it  appeared 
to  me,  by  the  space  it  occupied  (about  a  column),  to 
have  been  miserably  cut  up  and  curtailed ;  but  on  com- 
paring it  with  my  copy  I  discovered  that  not  a  syllable 
was  suppressed,  and  that  this  seeming  contraction  was 
but  the  natural  effect  of  printing.  I  continued  an  oc- 
casional correspondent  of  the  venerable  Mr.  Sylvanus 
Urban  till  my  mind  was  out  of  arms,  and  I  became 
vain  enough  to  imagine  that  I  was  fifty  years  too  young 
to  be  entitled  to  the  patronage  of  this  Ma3cenas  of  old 
women. 

About  the  latter  end  of  this  period,  I  began  to  be 
gratified  with  the  notion  that  I  was  rapidly  advancing 
towards  that  epoch  which  may  be  termed  the  prime  and 
flower  of  human  life,  when  the  animal  and  intellectual 
faculties  attain  their  most  perfect  maturity  and  devel- 
opment :  an  idea  which  was  fortified  by  the  recollection 
that  the  law  itself  had  fixed  twenty-one  for  man's  arri- 
val at  years  of  discretion.  I  cannot  help  smiling  when 
I  look  back  and  reflect  how  many  times,  as  I  came  near 
it,  I  postponed  this  happy  sera  of  compound  perfection, 
complimenting  myself  at  each  new  removal  on  my  own 
more  enlarged  views,  and  speaking  with  some  contempt 
of  my  own  juvenile  miscalculations.  Nay,  when  I  could 
no  longer  conceal,  even  from  myself,  that  my  corporeal 
powers  were  on  the  wane,  I  consoled  myself  with  the 
belief  that  my  mental  ones  were  daily  waxing  more  vig- 
orous and  manly  ;  and  once  entertained  thoughts  of 
writing  an  essay  to  prove  that  the  grand  climacteric  of 


PORTRAIT    OF    A    SEPTUAGENARY.  287 

the  frame  is  the  period  of  rational  perfection.  There  is 
a  pleasure  even  in  recalling  one's  own  inconsistencies, 
for  they  illustrate  a  beautiful  and  benignant  provision 
of  nature, — a  perpetual  system  of  equivalents  balancing 
the  pleasures  of  every  age,  by  replacing  the  present  with 
the  future,  and  weaving  around  the  mind  a  smiling  ho- 
rizon of  hope,  which,  though  it  recedes  as  we  advance, 
illuminates  our  path,  and  tempts  and  cheers  us  on  until 
the  sunset  of  life.  But  I  am  anticipating.  I  had  made 
many  more  extracts  from  my  early  Journals,  but  I  find 
I  am  ever  encroaching  too  much  ;  and  that  I  may  keep 
within  some  modesty  of  limit,  I  shall  proceed  at  once  to 
the  second  division  of  my  life. 


FROM  TWENTY  TO  FORTY. 

In  the  early  portion  of  this  period,  I  became  sensible 
of  a  decided  alteration  in  my  literary  taste ;  for  I  not 
only  lost  all  admiration  of  the  old  romances  of  Gomber- 
ville,  Calprenede,  Mad.  Scuderi,  and  even  Sir  Philip  Sid- 
ney's Arcadia,  which  I  had  devoured  ten  years  before 
with  a  keen  relish,  but  I  found  myself  incapable  of  taking 
the  trouble  to  unravel  the  contrived  intricacies  and  man- 
aged embarrassments  of  the  more  modern  novels  and 
romances :  I  no  longer  hung  with  breathless  interest 
over  the  "  Midnight  Apparition,"  or  "  Mysterious  Skele- 
ton," and  my  stubborn  tears  refused  any  more  to  blister 
the  pages  of  the  "  Victim  of  Sentiment,"  or  the  "  Agonies 
of  an  Orphan."  I  am  losing  all  sensibility,  said  I  to  my- 
self, and  getting  obdurate  and  stony ;  but  I  found  that 
any  magnanimous  act  of  virtue,  any  description  of  gen- 


288  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVJTJKS. 

erous  feeling,  any  trait  of  simple  heartfelt  emotion,  still 
struck  upon  a  sympathizing  chord  in  my  bosom,  and 
occasioned  that  suffusion  of  face  and  tingling  of  the 
blood  which  all  probably  have  felt,  though  few  have  at- 
tempted to  describe.  My  heart  was  not  so  rocky,  but 
that,  when  it  was  struck  with  a  wand  of  inspiration  like 
this,  the  waters  would  gush  forth ;  my  sensibility,  me- 
thought,  had  only  taken  a  loftier  and  more  noble  range, 
and  I  felicitated  myself  upon  the  decided  improvement 
in  my  taste.  So  have  I  done  ever  since  through  a  pretty 
numerous  succession  of  similar  changes ;  and  I  was, 
perhaps,  right  in  pronouncing  each  a  melioration ;  for, 
in  the  exquisite  system  of  adaptation  to  which  I  have 
alluded,  each  was  probably  the  best  for  the  existing  time, 
as  it  was  the  most  conformable  to  the  alternations  of 
my  physical  and  mental  organization.  At  first  it  was 
somewhat  startling  to  find  such  a  mass  of  literature 
withdrawn  from  my  enjoyment ;  but  not  only  were  new 
stores  opened  as  the  old  ones  were  closed  up,  but  I  found 
a  fresh  source  of  gratification  in  attending  to  the  style 
and  composition  as  well  as  the  matter:  I  began  to  relish 
the  author  as  well  as  the  book.  A  similar  substitution 
is  perceptible  in  the  sensual  appetite,  which,  when  it  loses 
the  unfailing  elasticity  of  youth,  derives  a  new  pleasure 
from  selection  and  refinement ;  and  thus  it  will  invaria- 
bly be  found,  that  if  new  enjoyments  be  not  provided 
for  mind  and  body  as  we  advance  in  life,  the  old  ones 
are  rendered  more  piquant  and  intense.  Diminution  of 
quantity  is  atoned  by  increase  of  quality,  the  maternal 
hand  of  Nature  spreading  her  blessings  over  the  surface 
of  life,  so  that  every  age  may  have  a  pretty  equal  share 
of  happiness. 


PORTRAIT    OF    A    SEPTUAGENARY.  289 

My  literary  inclinations  now  turned  decidedly  to  the 
useful  and  real,  rather  than  the  ornamental  and  imagi- 
nary. My  taste  for  poetry  diminished.  Shakspeare  I 
have  idolized  at  all  ages,  and  I  therefore  still  read  him, 
but  the  historical  plays  rather  than  the  poetical  ones; 
Pope  became  a  favourite,  and  Milton  was  occasionally 
taken  down  from  my  book-shelves ;  but  I  no  longer 
troubled  my  head  about  the  poetical  publications  of  the 
day,  unless  they  fell  in  my  way  in  the  reviews  and  mag- 
azines. History  and  biography  were  my  principal  stud- 
ies ;  I  could  even  look  into  scientific  works  and  politi- 
cal economy,  once  my  abomination  ;  and  in  metaphys- 
ics and  criticism  I  found  much  delight.  I  no  longer 
read  so  much  in  bed,  but  I  reflected  more  on  what  I 
had  been  perusing  in  the  day.  When  I  speak  of  my 
studies  the  reader  is  not  to  imagine  that  I  was  at  this 
time  a  scholar,  or  man  of  literature  ; — I  refer  only  to 
the  bias  of  my  mind  in  the  few  hours  dedicated  to  such 
pursuits,  and  alas !  they  were  but  few,  for  these  years 
were  the  dark  age  of  my  life,  blighted  by  the  turmoil 
and  anxieties  of  commercial  pursuits,  and  agitated  by 
their  stormy  vicissitudes.  Under  certain  limitations  I 
am  a  confirmed  Optimist ;  Parnell's  Hermit,  elegantly 
bound,  is  generally  laid  on  my  table ;  and  it  is  not  the 
farcical  exaggeration  of  Candide,  nor  the  sneering  wit 
of  Voltaire,  that  can  stagger  my  belief  in  a  great  and 
consoling  principle.  It  depends,  to  a  certain  extent,  up- 
on ourselves,  whether  or  not  every  thing  shall  be  for  the 
best : — misfortunes  improved  are  converted  into  bless- 
ings ;  advantages  abused  become  our  greatest  curses,  of 
which  the  reader  will  discover  abundant  confirmation  if 
he  will  look  round  among  his  acquaintance.  To  believe 
13 


290  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

in  Optimism  is  to  realize  its  truth  :  it  is  the  summary  of 
all  religion  and  all  philosophy,  as  it  is  the  dispenser  of  all 
happiness.  I  wanted  not  Pliny's  nor  Cicero's  eulogy  to 
throw  myself  upon  literature  for  consolation  under  any 
afflicting  reverse  which  I  experienced  :  my  mind  wel- 
comed it  as  a  friend  from  whom  it  had  too  long  been 
separated;  and  not  only  did  it  lose  the  sense  of  the 
blankness  and  desolation  that  surrounded  it,  by  plunging 
into  composition,  but  the  fortunate  issue  of  my  first  ef- 
fort, by  none  less  expected  than  by  myself,  furnished  me 
handsome  pecuniary  supply.  Education,  however,  and 
all  the  wise  saws  and  modern  instances  of  money-get- 
ting sages,  had  inspired  me  with  such  a  horror  of  pro- 
fessional authorship  that  I  seized  the  first  opportunity  of 
again  embarking  upon  the  perilous  sea  of  speculation 
and  adventure.  My  cargo  was  necessarily  of  little 
worth,  but  past  experience  had  made  me  cautious ;  the 
fear  of  loss  was  more  powerful  than  the  hope  of  gain  ; 
and  fortune,  constant  in  nothing  but  her  inconstancy, 
made  such  rapid  atonement  for  her  former  unkindness, 
that  at  the  close  of  this  second  period  I  was  enabled  to 
perform  three  of  the  wisest,  because  they  have  been  the 
happiest,  actions  of  my  life, — I  married  ;  I  left  off  busi- 
ness ;  I  retired  into  the  country. 

"  Amarus  est  mundus  et  diligitur ;  puta,  si  dulcis 
esset,  qualiter  amaretur,"  is  an  observation  of  the  golden- 
mouthed  Saint ;  numerous  other  preachers  and  moral- 
ists have  inveighed  against  too  great  a  love  of  the  world, 
and  accounted  for  its  bitterness  by  the  fear  of  our  intense 
attachment,  were  the  taste  of  life  more  sweet  and  pala- 
table ;  but  none  of  them  seemed  to  have  warned  us 
against  a  contrary  danger — too  great  a  detachment  from 


ORTRAIT    OF    A    SEPTUAGENARY.  291 


the  earth,  and  indifference  to  existence  in  the  ardent  and 
insatiable  curiosity  for  penetrating  into  the  mysteries 
beyond  the  grave,  and  developing  the  secrets  of  futurity. 
Had  I,  at  this  period,  remained  without  tie  or  occupa- 
tion, I  verily  believe  that  my  restless  spirit,  ever  hunger- 
ing after  hidden  things,  would  have  spurned  at  this,  and 
sickened  for  the  invisible  world.  The  narrow  house  of 
death  would  have  been  the  very  forbidden  blue  chamber 
whose  unknown  wonders  I  should  have  been  most  anx- 
ious to  explore.  I  should  have  been  in  a  balloon  of 
high  fancies,  only  held  fluttering  to  the  earth  by  a  few 
flimsy  strings,  and  anxious  for  the  moment  of  cutting 
them,  that  I  might  soar  upon  my  voyage  of  discovery. 
But  I  was  blessed  with  children  ;  and,  like  that  sacred 
Indian  tree  whose  pendent  branches  strike  fresh  roots 
into  the  ground,  I  found  myself  tied  with  new  ligatures 
to  the  world  at  every  increase  of  my  family.  There  is 
a  drawing  by  Cipriani,  of  Cupids  entwining  wreaths 
around  a  vase,  upon  which  I  have  often  gazed  till  the 
tears  suffused  my  eyes,  for  I  have  imagined  that  vase  to 
be  my  heart,  and  the  loves  and  affections  around  it  my 
children ;  so  rosy,  so  grateful  to  every  sense,  so  redolent 
of  balm  and  all  deliciousness,  were  the  domestic  gar- 
lands with  which  I  was  wreathed  and  bound  anew  to 
the  earth.  We  no  longer  live  in  those  turbulent  and 
lawless  times  when  children  were  valued  as  a  defence ; 
when  it  could  be  said,  "  Happy  is  he  that  hath  his  quiv- 
er full  of  them,  for  he  shall  not  be  afraid  to  meet  his 
enemy  in  the  gate  ;"  but  even  now  they  are  our  best  de- 
fences against  our  own  lawlessness  and  instability ;  they 
are  the  anchors  which  prevent  our  being  blown  about 
by  the  gales  of  vice  or  folly.  Nature,  meaning  us  to 


292  GA1KTIKS     AND     GRAVITIES. 

have  them,  made  them  correctives  as  well  as  blessings ; 
and  certain  it  is,  that  those  who  are  without  them,  wheth- 
er men  or  women,  wanting  the  proper  vent  for  their  af- 
fections, are  apt  to  worship  Egyptian  idols.  Dogs,  hor- 
ses, cats,  parrots,  and  monkeys,  become  substitutes  for 
Heaven's  own  image.  Men  may  suffer  their  hearts  to 
become  absorbed  by  worldly  occupations ;  but  I  have 
seldom  known  th  e  married  woman  who  had  strength  of 
mind  enough  to  walk  straight  forward  in  the  path  of 
good  sense,  unless  she  had  a  child  to  show  her  the  way. 
All  my  female  readers  in  this  predicament  will  please  to 
consider  themselves  the  exceptions. 

At  my  time  of  life  to  retire  from  business  was  deemed 
little  less  than  Idse-mojeste  against  the  throne  of  Mam- 
mon, and  flagrant  contumacy  towards  all  civic  prece- 
dent. Like  my  betters,  I  should  not  have  presumed  to 
enjoy  life  till  I  was  past  all  powers  of  enjoyment ;  I 
should  have  grubbed  on  till  I  was  worn  out,  and  then 
have  retired  to  the  rich  man's  poor-house  at  Clapham 
Common,  or  Hackney,  with  a  debilitated  frame  and  an 
empty  mind,  annoyed  with  idleness,  incapable  of  em- 
ployment; hungering  for  excitement,  and  yet  able  to 
feed  upon  nothing  but  itself.  Had  they  possessed  the 
power,  I  believe  some  of  the  Nebuchadnezzars  would 
have  thrown  me  into  the  fiery  furnace  for  refusing  any 
longer  to  worship  the  golden  image;  for  when  they 
found  that  I  "  scorned  their  smiles,  and  viewed  with 
smiles  their  scorning,"  they  discovered  that  I  was  an 
unfeeling  ostrich,  and  ought  to  have  remained  in  business 
for  the  sake  of  my  children.  Of  all  the  disguises  as- 
sumed by  avarice  and  selfishness,  this  is  the  most  flimsy 
and  hypocritical.  I  have  known  many  men  to  continue 


PORTRAIT    OF    A    SEPTUAGENARY.  293 

.their  gambling  speculations  under  this  pretext,  scatter  a 
fine  fortune,  and  leave  their  offspring  beggars ;  but  I 
never  knew  one,  however  conscious  of  the  hazardous 
nature  of  his  operations,  who  had  affection  enough  for 
his  children,  to  make  a  settlement  upon  them  and 
render  them  independent  of  himself  and  his  desperate 
adventures.  No,  no  ;  this  is  miserable  cant.  Though 
not  insensible  to  the  value  of  money  as  a  means,  I 
despise  it  as  an  end  of  life.  God  knows  that  in  these 
times,  when,  by  the  ingenuity  of  the  Funding  System, 
we  are  daily  paying  for  the  wars  of  our  pugnacious 
ancestors,  and  have  imposed  fresh  taxes  on  ourselves 
by  our  luxuries,  a  modicum  will  not  suffice ;  but  I  had 
a  great  deal  more  than  enough  for  the  higher  char- 
acter to  which  I  now  began  humbly  to  aspire — that  of 
a  philosopher.  I  have  never  desired  to  be  richer :  it 
would  not  hurt  me  to  be  poorer.  As  to  my  children, 
the}  will  receive  a  much  larger  patrimony  than  their 
father  did ;  and  I  am  by  no  means  sure  that  they  will 
possess  any  advantage  over  him  from  commencing 
life  with  better  prospects.  I  will  leave  off  while  I 
am  winner,  said  I  to  the  gold-worshippers :  "  Hie  ces- 
tus  artemque  repono."  Pursue  your  perilous  voyage 
to  the  Eldorado  of  your  imaginations,  and  Plutus  pros- 
per you  !  May  you  have  the  touch  of  Midas,  without 
his  ears ! — may  the  sands  of  Pactolus  be  your  ballast, 
the  Gold  Coast  your  place  of  lading,  and  your  souls  be 
woven  of  the  Colchian  fleece !  I  shall  rejoice  at,  not 
envy,  your  success  ;  deeming  myself  still  more  success- 
ful that  from  my  loop-holes  of  retreat  I  can  gaze  upon 
you,  and  exclaim — 

Inveni  portam  ;  spes  et  fortuna  valete 
Sat  me  lusiatis;  Indite  mine  alios. 


294  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

The  reader  is  not  to  imagine,  because  I  retired  into 
the  country,  that  I  was  addicted  to  field-sports.  I  never 
killed  a  bird  in  my  life  ;  but  I  was  once  persuaded  to 
angle  at  Laleham,  and  the  hook  stuck  in  my  memory 
for  years  afterwards  ;  nor  am  I  now  without  a  twinge 
of  self-reproach  as  I  record  it.  Old  Izaak  Walton, 
however,  must  share  the  blame :  his  pastoral  lines  first 
induced  me  to  try  a  fishing-rod,  but  I  cannot  under- 
stand how  a  man  so  sensible  to  the  inanimate  beauties 
of  nature  can  have  been  so  unfeeling  towards  her  sen- 
tient productions.  My  scruples  upon  these  points  are 
the  result  of  circumstances,  not  principles ;  early  oppor- 
tunity would  probably  have  seared  all  these  sympathies, 
and  I  therefore  claim  no  merit  for  a  sensitiveness  which, 
after  all,  many  will,  perhaps,  deem  morbid  and  fastidi- 
ous. There  are  virtues  of  necessity,  and  constitutional 
virtues,  such  as  temperance  in  men  of  delicate  health, 
upon  which  we  should  be  cautious  not  to  pique  our- 
selves ;  for  there  is  little  merit  where  there  is  no  self- 
denial  to  endure,  and  still  less  where  there  is  no  pos- 
sibility of  sinning.  Some  people  have  a  virtuous  organ- 
ization, and  are  physically  moral.  No ;  I  withdrew  my- 
self into  rural  shades  from  more  powerful,  and  I  hope 
more  noble  impulses, — from  a  conviction  that  they  are 
favourable  to  peace,  to  health,  to  virtue ;  as  well  as 
from  an  ardent  enthusiastic  love  of  nature  in  all  her  at- 
titudes and  varieties  of  scenery  and  season.  Burns,  in 
one  of  his  letters,  records  the  peculiar  delight  he  ex- 
perienced in  strolling  along  the  borders  of  a  wood  on  a 
gusty  autumnal  day.  I  could  not  understand  this  when 
I  first  read  it,  but  I  have  felt  it  since ;  and  I  have  never 
experienced  any  sorrow,  or  annoyance,  that  I  could  not 


PORTRAIT    OF    A    SEPTUAGENARY.  295 

mitigate,  if  not  subdue,  by  looking  upon  the  smiling 
face  of  external  nature,  or  contemplating  her  charms 
as  reflected  in  the  lucid  pages  of  Shakspeare,  or  listen- 
ing to  her  voice  as  attested  in  the  melodious  inspiration 
of  Comus  and  Lycidas.  But  let  me  not  anticipate  : 
these  are  mental  luxuries  which  belong  rather  to  a  fol- 
lowing period,  and  the  mention  of  them  reminds  me  that 
it  is  time  to -proceed  to  that  division  of  my  existence 
which  extends 

FROM    FORTY    TO    SIXTY. 

For  the  first  time  in  my  life  I  found  myself  blessed 
with  tranquillity  and  leisure,  and  I  seized  the  propitious 
opportunity  for  establishing  an  inquisition  into  my  own 
mind.  Self-scrutiny,  in  the  hurly-burly  of  business,  I 
had  little  inclination  to  practise,  though  I  knew  that  the 
storms  of  that  period  had  not  passed  over  me  without 
some  devastation  of  the  domain :  but  halcyon  days 
were  come,  and  I  sallied  boldly  into  my  own  heart  to 
clear  away  the  rubbish  and  eradicate  the  weeds.  There 
was  enough  to  do.  My  temper,  though  not  soured,  was 
no  longer  sweet.  It  was  neither  white-wine  nor  vinegar. 
I  was  never  sulky,  but  occasionally  testy  and  irritable ; 
unduly  annoyed  with  trifles,  peevish  at  any  disturbance 
of  my  regular  habits.  Politics  moved  me  at  times  to 
acerbity  and  exasperation,  though  I  had  no  interest  in 
their  juggles  beyond  an  intense  and  passionate  hatred 
of  tyranny,  hypocrisy,  and  usurpation.  Fortified  with 
the  foreknowledge  that  age  has  a  powerful  tendency  to 
render  us  cold,  suspicious,  and  narrow-minded,  I  set  my- 
self at  work  to  discover  whether  any  symptoms  of  this 


296  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

senile  infection  were  yet  perceptible.  By  nature  I  knew 
that  I  was  cordial  and  confiding ;  but  I  knew  also,  that 
these  qualities  had  occasioned  me  to  suffer  somewhat  in 
purse,  and  I  suspected  that  they  might  have  impov- 
erished my  disposition.  Examinations  confirming  my 
suspicions,  I  endeavoured  to  make  a  new  adjustment, 
grounded  upon  what  was  due  to  myself  as  well  as 
others  ;  but  I  rather  think  that  in  forming  my  balance 
I  leaned  strongly  to  the  former  of  the  two-  parties.  As 
to  the  little  overflowings  of  my  temper,  if  I  could  not 
reduce  them  altogether,  I  at  least  brought  them  down 
to  low-water  mark,  and  more  I  would  not  attempt,  re- 
membering the  couplet  of  Dryden — 

"Reaching  above  our  nature  does  no  good, 
We  must  fall  back  to  our  old  flesh  and  blood." 

Impeccability  I  left  to  the  fanatics,  who  would  fain  be 
as  outrageous  saints  as  they  once  were  sinners.  It  is 
astonishing  how  much  good  may  be  effected,  how 
much  bitterness  mollified,  how  much  latent  happiness 
developed,  by  this  species  of  self-inspection,  pursued  with 
candour  and  governed  by  philosophy.  The  mind  is 
autocratic,  and  can  create  itself,  so  far  at  least  as  con- 
cerns temper  and  capacity  for  receiving  and  communi- 
cating pleasure. 

Among,  the  changes  of  mode  and  habit  which  I 
have  recorded  of  this  period,  I  find,  that  after  all  my 
denunciations  against  it  as  a  frivolous  waste  of  time,  I 
fell  into  the  practice  of  playing  whist,  which  I  have 
continued  to  this  day ;  not  however  as  a  gambler  or 
professed  tactician,  but  rather  for  society  and  relaxa- 
tion, preferring  my  own  family,  or  neighbours,  however 


PORTRAIT    OF    A    SEPTUAGENARY.  297 

inexpert,  to  the  regular  practitioners.  I  only  state  this 
trifle,  to  accompany  it  with  the  remark,  that  my  own 
detected  inconsistencies  made  me  more  indulgent  than 
I  had  hitherto  been  to  the  vacillations  of  others. — My 
Journal  assures  me  that  I  have  grieved  in  spirit  more 
often  than  was  becoming,  when  my  dinner  was  not 
dressed  to  my  liking;  and  that  a  disposition  was  creep- 
ing on  me  to  attach  too  much  importance  to  the  refec- 
tion of  the  animal  system.  A  writer  of  no  mean  celeb- 
rity has  maintained  that  the  brains  are  in  the  stomach, 
and  Persius  talks  of  the  "  magister  artium,  ingenique 
largitor  venter ;"  but  rather  than  "  make  a  god  of  my 
belly,"  I  would  have  realized  the  fable  of  Menenius 
Agrippa,  and  set  all  the  members  of  my  body  in  mutiny 
against  it  until  it  was  starved  into  submission.  This 
vice  of  age  I  crushed  as  soon  as  it  was  hatched.  I  eat 
to  live,  but  am  in  no  danger  of  living  to  eat. — By  the 
same  memorial  I  find,  that  as  I  approached  fifty  I  more 
than  once  felt  a  disposition  to  sneak  over  my  birth-day 
without  notice  ;  but  I  soon  got  ashamed  of  this  weak- 
ness, and  have  celebrated  it  ever  since  with  due  festivity, 
giving  all  notoriety  to  my  age,  that  the  malicious  ac- 
curacy of  the  world  might  flap  my  ears  should  I  at- 
tempt to  relapse  into  obliviousness.  There  is  no  harm 
in  availing  ourself  of  others'  littlenesses  to  prevent  our 
own.  Poor  humanity  !  how  inconsistent  art  thou  in 
the  treament  of  the  natal  day  !  What  assemblage  of 
friends,  what  merry-making  and  bumpers  to  the  health 
of  the  chubby  and  bedizzened  child  ! — what  shouting, 
what  roasting  of  oxen,  and  out-pouring  of  ale,  among 
the  young  heir's  tenants,  when  "  Long  expected  one- 
and-twenty,  happy  year,  is  come  at  last !"  How  duly 


298  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

are  all  the  family  circled  round  the  plenteous  board  as 
this  revolving  day  rolls  us  up  the  hill  of  life ;  and  as 
we  begin  to  descend  it,  how  gradually  and  impercepti- 
bly does  the  celebration  die  away,  till  it  passes  over  in 
silence,  unrecorded,  except  in  the  consciousness  of  the 
ageing  individual,  or  the  spiteful  whispers  of  his  asso- 
ciates !  Sometimes  it  is  noticed  only  to  be  falsified,  as 
in  the  case  of  Lady  L ,  whose  husband  always  in- 
quires on  her  birth- day  how  old  she  will  please  to  be  on 
the  following  year.  Sometimes  the  party  stands  dog- 
gedly at  bay  against  time,  like  old  C ,  who  having 

arrived  at  ninety,  refused  to  go  any  farther,  and  has  re- 
mained there  ever  since  ;  as  if  he  could  alter  the  hour 
by  stopping  the  clock,  or  arrest  the  great  wheel  by  re- 
fusing to  count  its  rotations.  A  little  boy  of  mine  once 
lowered  the  index  of  a  barometer  to  "  much  rain  " — ran 
into  the  garden,  and  was  astonished  to  find  it  as  fine  as 

ever.    Old  C ,  in  his  second  childhood,  is  not  much 

more  reasonable. 

My  impertinent  Chronicle  assures  me  also  that  about 
the  same  period  I  detected  myself  in  little  paltry  acts 
of  stinginess,  grudging  half-pence,  and  looking  suspi- 
ciously after  "  candle-ends  and  cheese-parings,"  though 
I  never  dreamt  of  making  any  alteration  in  my  estab- 
lishment ;  so  true  is  Swift's  remark,  that  five  pounds 
a-year  would  save  any  man  from  the  reputation  of  being 
a  niggard.  This  propensity  is  of  a  very  encroaching 
character :  it  is  a  sort  of  dry-rot,  which,  if  it  once  gain 
admission,  will  creep  along  the  beams  and  rafters  of 
your  mind,  till  the  whole  fabric  be  corroded.  Much 
trouble  did  it  cost  me  to  eradicate  this  weed  ;  and  often 
have  the  latent  seeds  sprung  up  afresh,  and  demanded 


PORTRAIT    OF    A    SEPTUAGENARY.  299 

all  my  vigilance  to  prevent  their  gaming  possession  of 
the  premises. 

Exercise  for  the  body,  occupation  for  the  mind — 
these  are  the  grand  constituents  of  health  and  happi- 
ness ;  the  cardinal  points  upon  which  every  thing  turns. 
Motion  seems  to  be  a  great  preserving  principle  of  na- 
ture, to  which  even  inanimate  things  are  subject ;  for 
the  winds,  waves,  the  earth  itself,  are  restless,  and  the 
wafting  of  trees,  shrubs,  and  flowers,  is  known  to  be  an 
essential  part  of  their  economy.  Impressed  with  this 
truth,  I  laid  down  a  fixed  rule  of  taking  several  hours' 
exercise  every  day,  if  possible,  in  the  open  air ;  if  not, 
under  cover :  and  to  my  inflexible  adherence  to  this 
system  do  I  attribute  my  remarkable  exemption  from 
disease,  as  well  as  from  the  attacks  of  low  spirits,  or 
ennui,  that  monster  who  is  ever  prowling  to  waylay  the 
rich  and  indolent. 

"  Throw  but  a  stone,  the  giant  dies." 

What  exercise  is  to  the  frame,  occupation  is  to  the 
mind.  I  portioned  out  my  hours  so  as  not  to  leave  a 
moment  unemployed  :  I  commenced  a  systematic  course 
of  reading,  and  became  pretty  regularly  engaged  in 
composition,  that  most  delightful  of  all  recreations — so 
absorbing,  that  it  renders  us  unconscious  of  the  lapse  of 
time — so  soothing,  that  it  lulls  to  rest  all  the  sorrows  of 
the  heart.  Never  was  I  so  busy  as  when  I  became  an 
idle  man  ;  never  was  I  so  happy  as  when  I  was  thus 
busy.  •  Fortunately,  I  had  success  enough  to  give  an  in- 
terest to  the  pursuit,  without  arriving  at  that  distinction 
which  is  apt  to  engender  bitterness.  Satisfied  with  the 


300  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

delight  of  composition,  I  cared  little  about  present,  and 
less  about  future  fame.  Fontenelle  declared,  that  if  he 
were  dying,  and  knew  that  his  desk  contained  papers 
that  would  render  his  memory  infamous,  he  would  not 
walk  across  the  room  to  burn  them.  Had  they  no 
family  or  friends  to  be  affected  by  their  posthumous 
reputation,  perhaps  many  men  would  be  equally  indif- 
ferent. 

I  have  recorded  the  pleasure  of  being  a  father ;  can- 
dour obliges  me  to  mention  some  of  its  annoyances. 
My  son  grew  up  with  a  decided  predilection  for  that 
profession  which  I  have  ever  held  in  deep  abhorrence — 
the  Army.  Habituated,  as  I  have  said,  to  look  at  men 
and  actions  in  the  abstract  and  elemental,  I  could  not 
see  why  gold  lace  and  feathers,  and  scarlet  cloth  and 
music,  should  so  dazzle  and  stun  me  to  all  perceptions 
of  right  and  wrong,  as  to  make  me  respect  the  man  who 
would  hire  himself  as  a  trader  in  blood.  Such  persons, 
I  may  be  told,  are  necessary  ;  but  I  should  be  sorry  to 
see  my  son  in  the  occupation.  The  army  will  excuse 
me  : — they  have  the  admiration  of  a  thoughtless  world, 
and  may  well  despise  the  crazy  notions  of  a  fantastical 
old  man,  who  cannot  see  any  power  of  absolution  either 
in  a  Pope  or  a  gold  epaulette.  My  youngster  was 
reasoned  out  of  this  boyish  hankering ;  but,  alas  !  his 
second  choice  still  was  uncongenial  with  my  wishes, 
for  he  now  selected  the  bar.  My  notions,  I  am  aware, 
are  absurd,  unreasonable,  preposterous ;  but  that  I  might 
venerate  at  least  one  individual  of  this  profession,  I  have 
been  all  my  life  looking  for  the  advent  of  some  consci- 
entious barrister,  who  should  scrupulously  refuse  a  brief, 
unless  the  cause  of  his  cliont  at  least  wore  the  appear- 


PORTRAIT    OF    A    SEPTUAGENARY.  301 


ance  of  honesty  and  justice  ;  who  should  exert  his  skill 
and  eloquence  in  redressing  the  injured,  and  releasing  the 
unwary  from  the  traps  and  fetters  of  the  law,  while  he 
left  knaves  and  robbers  to  its  merited  inflictions.  How 
can  I  respect  a  being,  the  confidant,  perhaps,  of  male- 
factors, who  will  torture  his  ingenuity,  and  wTrest  the 
statute-book,  to  screen  them  from  punishment,  and  turn 
them  loose  upon  society  for  fresh  offences ; — who  will 
hire  out  his  talents  to  overreach  the  innocent,  to  de- 
fraud the  orphan,  to  impoverish  the  widow  ; — who, 
with  a  counterfeit  earnestness,  will  lay  his  hand  upon 
his  heart  and  make  solemn  asseverations,  every  one  of 
which  he  knows  to  be  false ;  and  for  another  two  or 
three  guineas,  will  on  the  same  day  take  the  opposite 
side,  and  with  the  same  vehemence  maintain  facts  and 
reasonings  diametrically  the  reverse  ?  It  must  be  as 
difficult  to  render  this  practice  consistent  with  a  manly 
candour  and  honourable  sense  of  the  importance  of  truth, 
as  to  prevent  the  system  of  quibbling,  chicanery,  and 
hair-splitting,  from  being  destructive  of  all  enlarged  and 
comprehensive  views.  We  all  know  there  are  excep- 
tions, but  in  the  aggregate  I  am  afraid  that  the  "  hon- 
ourable profession  "  is  not  so  independent  as  could  be 
wished.  They  sell  themselves  in  retail  to  their  clients, 
and  by  wholesale  to  Government  whenever  the  Minis- 
ter has  a  mind  to  bait  a  trap  for  rats. — Worldly  ideas 
of  the  gentility  of  a  profession,  or  the  chances  of  ad- 
vancement in  it,  blinded  me  not.  Perhaps  I  did  not 
render  sufficient  homage  to  the  necessary  modifications 
of  society — by  raising  my  views  to  the  contemplation 
of  man  in  his  elements,  I  overlooked  his  accidents  and 
all  the  paltry  distinctions  of  human  institution.  A  man 


302  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 


of  honour  or  talent  has  always  been  welcome ;  and  I 
have  felt  no  horrors  if  he  were  of  a  vulgar  trade,  or 
even  wore  a  shabby  coat.  Far  from  seeking  birth  and 
rank,  I  have  been  rather  prejudiced  against  their  pos- 
sessors, deeming  it  difficult  for  such  persons  to  over- 
come the  seductions  of  their  education.  The  spoilt 
children  of  Fortune,  like  those  of  the  nursery,  are  apt  to 
be  very  empty,  very  arrogant,  and  very  offensive. — 
No  :  I  would  neithe  r  have  my  son  live  upon  the  blood 
and  misery,  nor  upon  the  vices  and  follies,  of  his  spe- 
cies. I  would  neither  have  him  fawn  upon  a  general, 
nor  truckle  to  a  judge,  nor  feast  a  lawyer.  I  made  him 
a  farmer — that  most  ancient  and  honourable  of  all  pro- 
fessions. I  made  him  independent  of  all  the  world ; 
and  bidding  him  look  only  to  the  universal  mother, 
Earth,  who,  like  the  maternal  pelican,  feeds  her  off- 
spring from  her  torn  bosom,  I  taught  him  to  support 
himself  by  ministering  to  the  comfort,  enjoyment,  and 
support  of  others.  Of  the  pressure  to  which  agricultu- 
rists have  been  subjected,  he  has  cheerfully  borne  his 
portion  :  he  is  not  rich,  but  he  is  virtuous,  he  is  happy, 
and,  above  all,  he  is  independent. 

"  The  holy  vessel  of  the  Athenians,  during  a  course 
of  seven  hundred  years,  had  been  so  often  rebuilt,  that 
some  of  their  sophists  maintained  it  was  no  longer  the 
same  ship,  and  frequently  used  it  as  an  illustration  in 
discussing  the  question  of  personal  identity.  I  myself, 
both  in  body  and  mind,  had  undergone  such  a  total  re- 
placement of  feelings  and  ideas,  in  my  little  existence 
of  threescore  years,  that  I  was  inclined  to  think  myself 
a  different  personage  altogether  from  the  short-sighted 
youth,  who  considered  forty  as  a  grave  paternal  age, 


PORTRAIT    OF    A    SEFTUAGENARY.  303 

and  connected  sixty  with  nothing  but  ideas  of  decrepi- 
tude and  decay.  I  remember  when  I  thought  that  the 
consciousness  of  getting  old  arid  approaching  the  edge 
of  the  dread  abyss,  must,  at  the  former  age,  begin  to 
dim  the  sunshine  of  existence,  and  at  the  latter  be  suf- 
ficient to  overcloud  and  darken  all  its  enjoyments. 
These  spectres  of  fancy  vanished  as  I  came  near  them. 
At  forty  I  set  myself  down  for  a  young  man  :  and  find- 
ing myself  at  sixty  hale,  hearty,  and  happy,  able  to  dig 
in  my  garden,  enjoy  literature  and  the  arts,  and  culti- 
vate the  Muse  with  a  keener  relish  of  existence  than 
ever,  I  settled  in  my  own  mind  that  this  was  the  real 
meridian  and  zenith  of  human  life.  Children,  when 
first  they  ride  in  a  carriage,  imagine  that  the  trees  and 
houses  are  moving  on  while  they  are  stationary ;  and 
in  like  manner  I  could  see  plainly  enough  the  ravages 
of  time  upon  my  contemporaries,  and  observe  that  they 
were  getting  on,  while  I  myself  seemed  to  have  been 
standing  still,  and  at  some  loss  to  account  for  all  my 
old  friends  running  ahead  of  me.  This  is  another 
illustration  of  that  benignant  provision  of  nature,  which 
will  not  suffer  even  our  self-love  to  be  wounded,  and 
equalizes  the  happiness  of  life's  various  stages,  by 
making  even  the  foibles  of  age  minister  to  its  enjoy- 
ments. Whether  or  not  this  happy  self-delusion  re- 
tained its  power  at  a  more  advanced  period,  will  be 
seen  as  I  proceed  to  that  portion  of  my  life  which 
extends 

FROM    SIXTY    TO    SEVENTY. 

The  overweening  and  somewhat  triumphant  esti- 
mate which   I  had  formed   of  my  threescore  meridian 


304  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

was  slightly  checked,  by  my  hearing  one  friend  whis- 
per to  another  at  a  dinner-party, — "  Old  W be- 
gins to  twaddle  ;  he  has  told  us  that  story  half  a  dozen 

times  lately." —  Old  W !  that  amen  "  stuck  in  my 

throat ;"  it  threatened  my  zenith,  and  savoured  of  the 
azimuth.  Six  times  too  !  I  protest  it  was  but  three, 
but  that  I  confess  was  twice  too  much.  My  memory 
certainly  had  lost  a  portion  of  its  tenacity,  and  unless 
I  could  retain  impressions  long  enough  to  allow  them 
to  strike  root,  they  quickly  withered  away ;  in  which 
emergency  I  was,  perhaps,  too  apt  to  trade  upon  my 
youthful  capital  of  anecdotes.  This  defect  I  endea- 
voured to  remedy  by  a  common-place  book;  for  if  I 
forced  myself  to  remember  one  thing,  I  not  unfre- 
quently  forgot  another.  It  appeared  as  if  the  cham- 
ber of  the  brain  were  full,  and  could  only  accommodate 
new  tenants  by  ejecting  the  old  ones.  When  thus 
reminded  of  my  repetition  of  the  same  story  to  the 
same  party,  I  instantly  recalled  the  fact,  which  proves 
that  my  offence  was  a  want  of  recollection  rather  than 
of  memory,  a  distinction  not  always  attended  to. — 
One,  however,  is  often  the  precursor  of  the  other. 
Considering  that  novelty  has  generally  been  deemed 
a  necessary  ingredient  in  the  production  of  laughter, 
I  have  been  sometimes  astonished  at  the  punctual 
burst  with  which  my  old  bon-mots  were  invariably  fol- 
lowed up  by  myself,  even  when  others  have  observed  a 
provoking  gravity  ;  and  have  been  at  a  loss  to  decide 
whether  it  were  habit,  or  sympathy  with  my  first  en- 
joyment of  the  joke  awakening  a  kind  of  posthumous 
echo.  At  all  events  I  set  a  good  example ;  if  others 
would  not  follow  it,  more  shame  for  them. 


PORTRAIT    OF    A    SEPTUAGEN  ART.  305 


My  communion  with  nature  in  the  beauty  of  her 
external  forms,  far  from  diminishing  at  this  period,  be- 
came every  year  more  intense  and  exquisite,  height- 
ening by  reflection  my  relish  for  the  works  of  art ;  but 
I  observed  in  the  latter  my  eye  derived  its  principal 
gratification  from  gracefulness  of  figure  and  outline, 
rather  than  from  composition,  colouring,  or  scientific 
display.  Thus,  I  preferred  statuary  to  painting,  as  it 
suffered  my  attention  to  feed  without  interruption 
upon  the  harmonious  proportions  and  symmetry  of  the 
great  goddess ;  and  in  the  graphic  art  I  found  more 
delight  in  a  single  drawing  of  the  divine  Raphael,  than 
in  all  the  hues  of  Titian  and  the  colourists,  or  all  the 
patient  elaboration  of  the  Flemish  and  Dutch  minia- 
turists. In  my  love  of  nature  I  felt  jealous  of  the  artist 
beyond  mere  fidelity  of  form  (I  speak  principally  of 
figures)  ;  and  in  engraving,  where  there  is  no  colour 
to  compensate  for  alienating  the  eye,  I  deemed  that 
style  the  best  which  is  confined  to  outline.  Some  of 
the  commoner  productions  of  this  sort  are  generally 
lying  on  my  table,  and  I  find  undiminished  delight  in 
the  French  Cupid  and  Psyche  from  the  paintings  of 
Raphael's  pupils,  Hope's  Costumes  of  the  Ancients, 
etchings  of  the  Elgin  Marbles,  Retch's  Faustus,  and 
other  similar  productions.  Generally  speaking,  artists 
and  professors  appear  to  me  to  acquire  a  false  artificial 
taste,  which,  overlooking  the  simple  and  natural, 
makes  difficulty  of  execution  the  test  of  excellence, — 
a  mistake  extending  from  painters  and  sculptors  down 
to  opera-dancers  and  musicians. 

My  mind  is  less  excursive  than  it  was ;  it  requires 
less  excitement,  and  is  satisfied  with  less  nutriment, 


806  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

preserving,  in  its  mystic  union  with  the  body,  a  con- 
sentaneous adaptation  ;  for,  though  I  walk  or  ride  out 
whenever  the  weather  permits,  I  can  no  longer  exer- 
cise my  limbs  as  I  was  wont.  A  sunny  seat  in  my 
garden  begins  to  be  preferred  to  my  old  grey  mare.  I 
sit  there  sometimes  for  a  considerable  time,  and  think 
that  I  am  thinking,  but  I  find  that  the  hour  has  passed 
away  in  a  dreamy  indistinctness — a  sort  of  half  con- 
sciousness, sufficient  for  enjoyment,  though  incapable 
of  definition.  These  waking  dreams  may  be  a  re- 
source of  nature  for  recruiting  the  mind,  as  I  have 
always  found  mine  more  vigorous  and  active  after  such 
indulgence. 

There  is  one  calamity  to  which  age  seems  inevitably 
exposed — the  dropping  off  into  the  grave  of  our  early 
friends  and  associates,  as  we  advance  towards  the  final 
bourne  and  seem  to  have  most  need  of  their  social 
offices.  But  nature,  ever  on  the  watch  to  provide  sub- 
stitutes for  our  deprivations,  while  she  blunts  our  sym- 
pathies in  this  direction,  quickens  them  in  another,  by 
raising  up  a  new  circle  of  friends  in  our  children  and 
grand-children,  less  subject  to  the  invasion  of  death, 
and  better  qualified  by  attachment  and  gratitude  to 
minister  to  the  wants  of  the  heart.  These  are  the  affec- 
tions that  garland  it  with  the  buds  and  blossoms  of  a 
second  spring ;  these  are  the  holy  band  whose  miracu- 
lous touch  can  bid  the  thorn  of  mortality,  like  that  of 
Glastonbury,  break  forth  into  flowers  even  in  the  Christ- 
mas of  our  days.  This  is  the  cup  of  joy  that  contains 
the  sole  aurum  potabile,  the  genuine  elixir  vitoe  that 
can  renovate  our  youth  and  endow  us  with  a  perpetuity 
of  pleasure. 


PORTRAIT    OF    A    SEPTUAGENARY.  307 


In  my  former  solitary  wanderings  and  contempla- 
tions of  nature,  I  had  delighted  to  let  my  imagination 
embody  forth  the  dreams  of  Grecian  mythology  and 
fable ;  to  metamorphose  the  landscape  that  surrounded 
me  to  the  mountains  and  dells  of  Arcadia  and  Thes- 
saly ;  to  people  the  woods  and  waters  with  nymphs, 
fauns,  Dryads,  Oreads,  and  Nereids ;  losing  myself 
in  classical  recollections,  and  bidding  them  occasion- 
ally minister  to  the  inspirations  of  the  Muse.  But  the 
charms  of  rural  scenery  now  kindled  in  my  bosom  a 
higher  and  holier  sentiment.  I  looked  out  upon  the 
beautiful  earth,  clothed  in  verdure  and  festooned  with 
flowers,  upon  the  glorious  all-vivifying  sun,  upon  the 
great  waters  bounding  in  unerring  obedience  to  the 
moon,  and  into  the  blue  depths  of  heaven,  until  I 
stood,  as  it  were,  in  the  presence  of  the  Omnipotent 
Unseen  ;  my  senses  drank  in  the  landscape  till  they 
became  inebriated  with  delight ;  I  seemed  interfused 
with  nature ;  a  feeling  of  universal  love  "fell  upon  my 
heart,  and  in  the  suffusion  of  its  silent  gratitude  and 
adoration  I  experienced  a  living  apotheosis,  being  in 
spirit  rapt  up  into  the  third  heaven,  even  as  Elijah 
was  in  the  flesh.  Bold  romantic  scenery  was  not  es- 
sential to  the  awakening  of  this  enthusiasm :  it  has 
sprung  up  amid  my  own  fields ;  and  in  the  study  of 
botany,  to  which  I  have  always  been  attached,  the 
dissection  of  a  flower  has  been  sufficient  to  call  it  forth, 
though  in  a  minor  degree.  All  nature,  in  fact,  is 
imbued  with  this  sentiment,  for  every  thing  is  beau- 
tiful, and  every  thing  attests  the  Omnipresence  of 
Divine  love ;  but  grand  combinations  will,  of  course, 
condense  and  exalt  the  feeling.  Old  as  I  am,  I  can 


308  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

still  walk  miles  to  enjoy  a  fine  prospect ;  I  often  get  up 
to  see  the  sun  rise,  and  I  rarely  suffer  it  to  set,  on  a 
bright  evening,  without  recreating  my  eyes  with  its 
parting  glories.  I  can  now  feel  the  spirit  in  which  the 
dying  Rousseau  desired  to  be  wheeled  to  the  window, 
that  he  might  once  more  enjoy  this  sublime  spectacle. 
How  often,  in  my  younger  days,  have  I  repeated 
the  well-known  lines  of  Dryden, 

"  Strange  cozenage !  none  would  live  past  years  again, 
Yet  all  hope  pleasure  from  what  still  remain, 
And  from  the  dregs  of  life  think  to  receive 
What  the  first  sprightly  running  would  not  give: 
I'm  tired  of  toiling  for  this  chymic  gold, 
Which  fools  us  young,  and  beggars  us  when  old." 

I  had  lived  to  disprove  them.  I  would  live  past 
years  again,  but  it  should  be  the  latter,  not  the  former 
portion  ;  for  the  current  of  my  life,  as  it  approaches 
the  great  ocean  of  eternity,  runs  smoother  and  clearer 
than  in  its  first  out-gushing.  Like  Job's,  my  latter 
days  have  been  the  most  fully  blessed.  I  am  now 
seventy  years  of  age ;  and  bating  the  loss  of  a  few 
teeth,  and  some  other  inevitable  effects  of  age  upon  my 
person,  I  still  possess  the  mens  sana  in  corpore  sano,  and 
"bate  no  jot  of  heart  or  hope."  My  journey  from 
sixty  to  seventy  has  been  as  delightful  as  that  from 
forty  to  sixty ;  nor  do  I  anticipate  any  future  disap- 
pointment should  it  be  extended  to  eighty  or  ninety, 
for  my  confidence  in  nature's  substitutions  and  benig- 
nant provisions  is  boundless.  Had  she  fixed  a  century 
as  the  impassable  boundary  of  life,  we  might  feel  some 
annoyance  and  apprehensions  as  we  approached  it', 


PORTRAIT    OF    A    SEPTUAGENARY.  309 


but  by  leaving  it  undetermined,  she  has,  to  a  certain 
extent,  made  us  immortal  in  our  own  belief,  for  Hope 
is  illimitable.  I  often  catch  myself  anxiously  inquiring 
of  what  disease  my  seniors  have  died,  as  if  their  disap- 
pearance were  contrary  to  the  usual  course  of  things, 
and  attributable  to  accident. — "  The  shortness  of  human 
life,"  says  Dr.  Johnson,  u  has  afforded  as  many  argu- 
ments to  the  voluptuary  as  the  moralist."  How  opera- 
tive, then,  must  it  be  with  me,  who  am  anxious  to 
combine  both  tendencies,  and  be  considered  a  moral 
voluptuary,  or,  in  other  words,  a  philosopher  :  not  a  fol- 
lower of  Aristippus,  or  disciple  of  the  Cyrenaic  school, 
devoted  to  worldly  and  sensual  delights  under  which 
the  soul  "  embodies  and  embrutes ;"  but  as  a  pupil  of 
the  much  misunderstood  and  calumniated  Epicurus, 
cultivating  intellectual  enjoyments,  and  holding  plea- 
sure to  be  the  chief  good,  and  virtue  the  chief  pleasure  ! 
These  are  the  laudable  delights  to  which  I  feel  a  new 
stimulant  from  considering  the  shortness  of  my  remain- 
ing career ;  and  whether  its  termination  be  near  or  dis- 
tant, these  enjoyments  will,  I  verily  believe,  accompany 
me  to  the  last,  and  enable  me  to  fall,  like  Caesar,  in  a 
becoming  and  decent  attitude. 

I  have  just  laid  down  Wordsworth's  Excursion, 
which  I  have  been  reading  in  the  fields.  How  beauti- 
ful is  the  evening  !  The  ground  is  strewed  with  dead 
leaves,  which  the  wind  has  blown  up  into  little  heaps 
like  graves ;  autumn  has  spread  her  varicoloured  man- 
tle over  those  which  still  flutter  on  the  trees,  some  of 
which,  crisp  and  red,  tinkle  in  the  air ;  while,  from  the 
chestnuts  over  my  head,  a  large  russet  leaf,  flitting 
from  time  to  time  before  my  oy<  s,  or  falling  at  my  feet, 


310  GAIETIES    AND    GRAVITIES. 

seems  to  pronounce  a  silent  "  memento  mori"  The 
sun  is  rapidly  sinking  down,  leaving  the  valley  before 
me  in  shade,  while  the  woods  that  clothe  the  hill 
upon  my  left,  suffused  with  rosy  light,  but  tranquil  and 
motionless,  seem  as  if  they  reposed  in  the  flush  of  sleep. 
Three  horses,  unyoked  from  the  plough,  are  crossing 
the  field  towards  their  stable,  and  the  crows  that  have 
been  following  the  furrow  retire  cawing  to  their  nests, 
while  a  flock  of  sheep,  attended  by  the  shepherd  and 
his  dog,  are  slowly  withdrawing  to  the  fold.  Every 
thing  seems  to  breathe  of  death, — to  remind  me  that 
my  sun  too  is  setting,  and  that  I  must  shortly  go  to 
my  long  home,  for  the  night  is  approaching.  And 
here,  methinks,  if  my  appointed  time  were  come,  with 
the  grass  for  my  bed  of  death,  the  earth  and  sky  sole 
witnesses  of  my  exit,  I  could  contentedly  commit  my 
last  breath  to  the  air,  that  it  might  be  wafted  to  Him 
who  gave  it. 

Life  is  at  all  times  precarious  ; — there  are  but  a  few 
feet  of  earth  between  the  stoutest  of  us  and  the  grave, 
and  at  my  age  we  should  not  be  too  sanguine  in  our 
calculations ;  yet  if  I  were  to  judge  of  my  own  un- 
broken health  and  inward  feelings,  as  well  as  from  the 
opinions  of  others  more  competent  to  pronounce,  I  have 
yet  ten  years  at  least,  perhaps  many  more,  of  happiness 
in  store  for  me.  Should  the  former  period  be  consum- 
mated, I  pledge  myself  again  to  commune  with  the 
public.  Should  it  be  otherwise,  I  may,  perhaps,  be 
enabled  to  realize  the  wish  of  the  celebrated  Dr.  Hun- 
ter, who  half  an  hour  before  his  death  exclaimed, 
"  Had  I  a  pen  and  were  able  to  write,  I  would  de- 
scribe how  easy  and  pleasant  a  thing  it  is  to  die !"  In 


PORTRAIT    OF    A    SEPTU  AGE  NARY.  311 

either  alternative,  gentle  reader,  if  my  example  shall 
have  assisted  in  teaching  thee  how  to  live  grateful  and 
happy,  and  to  look  upon  death  with  resignation,  the 
object  of  this  Memoir  will  be  attained,  and  thou  wilt 
have  no  cause  to  regret  perusing  this  sketch  of 

A  SEPTUAGENARY. 


THE    END. 


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